The Process of Elimination
by ckrets
Summary: The Hunger Games are over. Let the Tournament begin.
1. You Have Been Selected

**A/N** This story was heavily, _heavily_ inspired by the unique and brilliant fic _Semper Fi_ by der kapitan. Go read it. It's Hunger Games and it's amazing. It's quite possibly one of the best Hunger Games fics ever. I really liked der kapitan's idea of Capitol citizens lurking somewhere in the distance, just waiting for revenge. This takes place 75 years Post-Mockingjay.

* * *

**The Process of Elimination**

"_Youth is easily deceived because it is quick to hope." _-Aristotle

Prologue:  
You Have Been Selected

* * *

"It's perfect."

"I…I don't know if it'll work."

Ella Snow shot a sharp glare at the woman sitting across from her. That woman was Katerina "Kitty" Brighton, a popular and influential Neo-Capitol singer. Kitty had curly cyan-colored hair, cyan-colored lipstick, cyan-colored contacts; one could guess that cyan was Kitty's favorite color. Kitty bit her lip at Snow's reaction to her words.

"It's _perfect,_" Snow repeated insistently. The room was still with a cold and sharp silence. It was just the two of them staring blankly into each other from across a sleek black table. The table was bare except for a single blue notebook positioned beneath Snow's hands. The room was partially lit with the evening sun.

Kitty let loose a staggered sigh. She twiddled her fingers idly underneath the table, knowing Snow couldn't quite possibly see her added uneasiness if she kept her hands out of sight. She was hesitant to speak, but nonetheless, she spoke. "How do we…" Kitty began, "how do we know for _sure_ this won't end up like the Games? You know what happened seventy-five years ago."

Snow clicked her tongue and leaned in. "Miss Brighton," she hissed, "I can assure you that this will not end up like the Games. The Games were flawed. There was room for so much error. That's why it failed. That's why _he_ failed." She waited for Kitty's response, but the cyan-loving woman had nothing, save for an indifferent stare.

Snow released a deep breath. "Look. This will prove to be just as exciting without those errors present. It's organized. Precise. It will ensure that there will _always_ be a death. This way, it moves forward while allowing the excitement to last for as long as possible. And there will only be room for a _single_ victor. The parameters ensure only one can win."

"But why me?"

"You're an _icon_ to our citizens," Snow drawled. "You are a shining example…almost like, like a _goddess._" By now, Snow was standing. She was making her way around the table to where Kitty was sitting. Snow placed a delicate hand on Kitty's shoulder. She leaned in.

"People adore you, Miss Brighton," she said in an even voice. "This will be a million times more exciting if I have _the_ Kitty Brighton as its announcer and co-host." Snow grabbed the seat the was next to Kitty. She sat calmly on the swiveling chair as she looked Kitty dead in the eye. "The citizens all ready hold a grudge against Panem. They'll be eager for what I have in store. But with _you_ behind me, supporting me…it'll be spectacular."

She wanted to say no. Kitty Brighton was told about the notorious Hunger Games that her homeland held to the Districts of Panem. The thought of sending children, young, _innocent_ children to their deaths was absolutely horrid. Unjust. And ultimately, sadistic. Kitty wanted to say no. She wanted to stand up, reject Snow's offer, and leave. But she knew that she couldn't.

She was sitting alone with her president in an empty room. _The_ president. President Ella Snow had immense influence over everything in the Neo-Capitol. There would be consequences if she refused. Snow would make sure of it.

Kitty exhaled a soft breath. "I'll do it," she said firmly. Her eyes drifted away for a second, finding solace in a corner of the room. But her eyes soon found their way back to Ella Snow. President Snow simply gave her a disgustingly fake smile. Kitty's cheeks forced an equally as fake a smile, but tried to make it appear as genuine as possible.

"Good, good," Snow hummed, her plastic smile unwavering. "Everything is all ready set in motion." She stood up. She gestured for Kitty to do the same. Kitty did what was implied, and soon found herself shaking Ella Snow's cold hands. "There is a limousine waiting for you outside the building. It'll show you to where you will be staying for the duration of this ordeal. I'll explain more when we get there. The tributes should be arriving soon."

When Kitty exited the building, the smell of Snow's perfume lingered in her nostrils. The smell of lavender.

* * *

_Seven hours earlier…_

She reread the message on the letter, just to be sure.

_"Hello, Dinah Heff. You have been selected to represent Panem in a Youth Organization. This organization is designed to help the younger generation by using their ideas. Please meet at 12:00 pm on the address below for more details. Don't be shy and give it a try! Panem highly values your input."_

Dinah grinned. Even though she was twelve years old, _Panem_ highly valued _her_ input. She couldn't wait to tell her mother. Dinah bounced through her bedroom door and into the kitchen. "Guess what the letter said, Mom?" Dinah called out as the heels of her feet rolled to a stop. Her mother was relaxing with a hot cup of tea and a newspaper. Dinah's eyes were lit up and her face was stretched into a smile.

Her mother gently lifted her face, their eyes making contact. When she smiled, Dinah couldn't help but smile even harder. "What'd it say, hon?"

Dinah cleared her throat and took out the letter she accidentally crumpled. She read word for word what was in print. When she spoke the last word of the last sentence, her mother opened her mouth to congratulate her. But Dinah didn't even give her the chance.

"Isn't it _great?_" she said, her mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

"I-"

"Panem values _my_ input. Me!" Dinah's hands were shaking with excitement. Her mother merely shook her head and stifled a small chuckle. Dinah took a seat next to her mother. But she didn't even sit for one second before tackling her mother in an affectionate embrace. Her grin refused to falter.

"Isn't this great? I can finally help so many people with my ideas. I mean, first I have to _think_ about some ideas…I'm sure I have a few buried somewhere in my mind…but think of the good I can do for Panem! This is so exciting! Maybe I'll even get to meet President Mellark…oh, but I shouldn't get my hopes up for _that_ one. He's probably too busy with other important things…"

Dinah sighed contentedly. "This is so great. Just great." For the entire duration of her babbling, Dinah's arms were still wrapped tightly around her mother. Her hands clutched the thickness of her mother's sweater. By the time she felt she had said enough, Dinah let go and grinned yet again into her mother's eyes. "So…" she began, "what do _you_ think?"

Her mother wrapped an arm around Dinah as she sat on her lap. Dinah giggled softly as she received a small kiss on the cheek.

"I think it's wonderful that they're doing this," her mother said. "I think they picked a good person when choosing you. I'm sure you'll get along with the others and help make Neo-Panem a better place."

Dinah returned her mother's kiss. "Thanks, Mom." She stole a glance at the clock. "Well, I better get dressed. According to the letter, I have to meet up with whoever is in charge in half an hour. Tell Dad the good news. I hope…he'd be proud of me then."

"I'm sure he will be."

Dinah merely nodded. "Thanks, Mom," was all she could really say.

Her father was constantly working, meaning he constantly never had any time to spend with his family. When he was home, he would be ignoring everyone else in the house. Dinah would attempt to grow closer to her father now and then, but he often rejected her attempts at affection. She didn't believe he truly cared about her, or her mother.

All he concerned himself with was _work._

She walked down the hall and faced the door that led to her room. As Dinah's hand gripped the handle, her mother called out to her. Dinah glanced back.

"He works hard _because_ of you," she said. Dinah watched as the corners of her mother's lips turned up slightly. But her eyes reflected something else. "Remember that. Don't let your stubborn pride overlook that fact."

It sometimes scared her, how well her mother could infer what she was thinking. But Dinah supposed that's what happens when two people became so connected to one another.

She discarded her mother's comment about her father, as usual. "Yeah, right," she muttered. Had it been anyone else, Dinah would have snapped back with a bitter comment. Perhaps something along the lines: "He works hard because I was _born._"

But she knew better than to snap at her mother.

Now, at least.

She went inside her room and clicked the door shut. Dinah didn't have many formal outfits, so she just went with something simple: a nice blue shirt and the cleanest pair of shorts that she could find in her cluttered mountain of clothes. She brushed her long, dark-brown hair at least forty times. She _did_ want to make an impression. First impressions were always important, after all.

Her black eyes stared back at her through the mirror. There wasn't a pimple in sight on her light brown skin. Well…except for that _one_ on her chin. Dinah smiled a confident smile. "You can do this," she told her reflection. "Be amazing."

District 13 had changed in the seventy-five years following the end of the Capitol's reign. Dinah was told that her ancestors used to live underground in order to remain hidden in the eyes of the other districts. She didn't understand why, but then again, remembering facts wasn't exactly her forte. She loved to learn, but hated to study.

The giant clock in the plaza began to strike twelve. Dinah grinned again in anticipation. She waited by a small shop at the corner of a block. The block wasn't particularly busy today. Hardly any people passed through. She listened as the twelfth stroke finally rung throughout the plaza. From where she was, the sound of the stroke was heard far away.

Dinah watched as a boy was coming her way. Perhaps he was selected for the Youth Organization too. Dinah waved to him. But he didn't wave back. He couldn't. A figure came out of nowhere and struck him down. It shoved him into a hover car that cruised swiftly into the street.

Fear instantly shot through her. Dinah's eyes widened and her head swirled. She felt like vomiting. Dinah turned her back and immediately took off in the other direction. Tears began to well up inside and her breathing became irregular.

She had to find help. But she only managed to make it a few feet before another hover car stopped her dead in her tracks. She felt her palms stick with sweat. Her hands were trembling. But unlike before, they quivered with fright. Dinah turned stiffly in the other direction, but as she expected, that hover car was blocking her too. She bit her lip and her knees buckled. It felt as if her heart dropped into her stomach.

"_Help!_" she choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Someone, _please._ Help!"

Dinah shrieked out in pain as she received a blow to her side. She landed with a loud thud onto the concrete. Dinah felt a sudden, electric shock rush through the back of her neck. Her vision grew hazy as tears continued to descend from her eyes to the pavement beneath.

She was going to be kidnapped. She and that other boy were going to be _kidnapped._ If she wasn't trembling with anxiety on the outside (she had lost all feeling), she definitely was trembling on the inside. Dinah didn't want to be kidnapped. She didn't. Dinah felt her gasps fluctuate between shed tears.

"Mom, _help_ me!" she cried out in desperation. Immense sobs muffled her words. It was the last thing Dinah had said before blacking out.

* * *

She awoke to find her hands cuffed behind her back with a belt fastened too tightly around her small waist. She couldn't see it, but she could feel a bracelet adhering tightly to her right wrist. Dinah's eyes scanned the small area she was in.

She was in the back seat of a hover car. Her breath staggered unevenly in small chokes. She swallowed. Hard. Dinah inhaled slowly and batted her eyes. The numbness in her body was gone, but her eyes had a dry stinging sensation. Tears began to form in her eyes yet again. Dinah closed her eyes, hoping that it would add consolation to the burning and the itching.

A few minutes passed until she could cry no more. Her eyes remained irritated, but Dinah forced herself to suck it up. She glanced out the tinted window. There were tall skyscrapers that gleamed in the evening sky. Everyone—the adults, the children, the pets—sported bright, abnormal hairstyles, and clothing to match. Their skins were painted with the most unusual of colors and their faces actually _frightened_ her.

Dinah was nowhere near District 13.

And all across Neo-Panem, thirteen others wound up just like her.

* * *

Once again, I highly recommend reading _Semper Fi_ by der kapitan.


	2. At the Stroke of Twelve, pt 1

**A/N** It's been awhile since my last update. But it took time and effort to write this chapter, so I hope it was worth it.

* * *

**The Process of Elimination**

"_Not even need and love can defeat fate..."_ -Ursula K. Le Guin

Chapter 1:  
At the Stroke of Twelve, pt 1

* * *

**District 1**

"Where are you going?"

Jean Porter glanced over his shoulder to find his 14 year-old brother sitting on the leather couch. Viktor's gray eyes wore an innocent gaze, but Jean could see right through his façade. The boy was smarter than Jean gave him credit for. But Jean just spread out an easygoing smile and strolled casually towards Viktor. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I have some late night jobs to take care of. I'll be fine."

"It's almost midnight," Viktor said. He pointed to the clock that monotonously ticked as he spoke. Viktor's gaze met the dark wooden floor. He crossed his arms. "You always do this. You always take off in the middle of the night and…it worries me. It's just that-"

Jean placed a strong hand on Viktor's shoulder, forcing the young boy to look up. Jean's easygoing smile was now hardened into seriousness. "I'll be _fine,_" he insisted. "I always do this. And I always come back. So there's nothing to worry about."

But the look on Viktor's face told him otherwise.

"Do you know why I do this?" Jean asked. Viktor shook his head. "For _you._ It's all for you. You know we need the money, Vik."

"I know. But does Mom even-"

"_No!_" Jean suddenly snapped, causing his brother to be taken aback. Viktor's lower lip twitched slightly. His eyes grew wide as Jean's brow furrowed. Upon seeing his brother's uneasiness, Jean had to force himself to soften his expression. He sighed. "Just…go to sleep, Vik. I worry about you too, you know."

Viktor's eyes remained fixated on Jean for another ten seconds before he finally decided to get off the couch. He silently walked towards his bedroom. He was reluctant to open the door. Viktor caught one last glimpse of Jean before entering his room and shutting it with a soft thud. Jean kept still until the light escaping underneath the door finally shut off. He released a breath of relief before heading out.

It was in his nature to be persuasive. It was also in his nature to slither his way past any trouble that came along. But Jean knew that those talents could only work for so long on the only person he really cared about. Viktor wasn't going to be 14 and ignorant forever. He was only three years young than Jean was, after all. And how Viktor was still unaware of their negligent, morphling-addicted mother, Jean didn't know. He couldn't keep up the constant lies, the constant…_excuses._

Truth be told, this was one of those rare exceptions where in fact Jean wasn't trying to deceive him. They needed the money. It was as simple as that.

And Jean would do whatever it took to support his little brother.

District 1 was once a provider of luxury to the former Capitol that commanded the districts. Since the abolishment of the Capitol and the formation of the Executive Council, District 1 grew to be more of an entertainment district over anything. But luxury also played in a key role in keeping the wealthy (and even middle class) visitors amused.

"Going to Lacey's house I see," said a girl with curly golden hair. Her soft blue eyes glared icily onto his face. Jean swore under his breath at the sound of her voice. He mentally sighed.

Porcelain Grimes. She was a beautiful girl. Fair skinned. A great smile. She could also be quite kind…when the person she was addressing wasn't named Jean Porter. And of course, the person she _was_ addressing _was_ named Jean Porter. Aka the local heartbreaker. Aka the flirtatious womanizer. Aka her ex-boyfriend.

She was the only _real_ relationship that Jean ever had.

"Why don't I stop by yours on the way?" he said seductively, lifting a brow and wearing a grin. "My fee is $200, but for you, I'll slash the price in half." He waltzed closer to her, but Porcelain simply moved away. She narrowed her eyes as Jean continued. "I've got time."

Porcelain merely rolled her eyes. "Why don't you get a decent job and quit this disgusting rep of yours?" she asked. "It'd do you some good." The bitterness was evident in her tone.

He felt his ears redden. "Why don't you just shut up and go away?"

Damn this girl. Damn her and her resistance to his perfectly tanned body, his perfectly prominent jaw-line, and his perfectly short-cropped, honey blonde hair. He had the looks. He had the smile. Nearly every girl would fall for his drop dead gorgeous face. (Well, a good portion of them). He was the envy of the town. And Porcelain Grimes was not just the only female to _not_ fall for his irresistible charms, but she was also the only female who held a bitter hatred towards him.

"Because I care."

Her voice was so delicate, so firm, that he found himself almost (_almost_) believing her words. She was known for being honest, for being unable to tell a lie. And the way Porcelain spoke made her appear so genuine.

But Jean merely sneered. "Yeah, right."

Porcelain shook her head, causing her golden curls to bounce lightly off of her shoulder. "I do," she said. "If you don't believe me, then that's your loss. But I think you can do better than this." She turned her back on him. Jean positioned his face away from her, but glanced at her through the corner of his eye. Porcelain walked away. She walked away, not once looking back.

He huffed.

She was the only female to walk away.

The rest of the night was filled with business of the lascivious kind. Lacey was first to kick up his drive. Then came Silk. Then Polish. Then Vel and Satina (together). And then he went through an entire list of teenage girls and older women until he collected his grand total of $2,000. It wasn't much, considering all the bills they would have to pay and the extra expenses. But it would have to do.

"What time did you come home?" Viktor asked as he poured milk into a bowl of cereal. Jean scratched his head as he pulled a chair from underneath the table and plopped down. The afternoon sun seeped through the windows.

"I dunno," he yawned. He rubbed his eyes lazily and outstretched his hand. It was habitual for him to wake up so late. "Hand me the milk please."

"Here." Viktor placed the carton in Jean's hand. Jean shrugged and took a huge swig of milk straight from the carton. Viktor chuckled a little bit. Jean grinned. As soon as a honey blonde and exhausted-looking woman entered the kitchen, Jean's grin was wiped out. Instead, he maintained a neutral stare. Viktor began to eat his cereal, one spoonful at a time. Jean kept his focus on a stain on the kitchen counter as the woman took a seat next to him.

"Hi you guys," she said in a husky voice. She smiled faintly at Jean, but Jean did not smile back.

"Hi Mom," Viktor said, smiling back.

Suddenly Jean stood up. Viktor and his mother moved their eyes, fixating them closely on Jean. Viktor opened his mouth, but words did not follow. Jean headed towards the front door, ignoring the gazes that were surely falling upon him.

"Jean," his mother began, "you still have to eat-"

He slammed the door before she could finish her sentence.

His pace was rather slow. Jean had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he walked down the street. He wondered _why?_ Why was his mother so pathetic and weak? When his father had abandoned the family for a woman he had an affair with, everything spiraled away. They had to leave behind the good life, and the riches that adhered to their former father's name. Jean wondered if his mother was heartbroken or if she just missed the wealth.

He despised her for being so useless. And he despised his father for being such a sleaze. People often compared Jean to Eric Porter, but Jean knew that he was _nothing_ like his estranged father. Eric cheated on an established relationship. Girls knew Jean had multiple partners because he never established any relationships to begin with.

Well. Excluding Porcelain.

"But that was _different,_" he felt himself say. It wasn't as if he actually _cared_ about his late night clients. Porcelain had simply overreacted upon discovering his secret lifestyle. But Jean _knew_ that people understood who he was and what they were in for if they wanted him.

Porcelain simply didn't believe that Jean was being honest when he had said that he _actually_ cared about her.

And in the deepest recesses of his mind, he couldn't blame her.

There was a favorite diner he would go to when he was feeling a little down or when he wanted to escape his mother. It had everything: adorable and oblivious girls, a swanky atmosphere, and quality items on the menu. It wasn't exactly smack dab in the middle of District 1's highlife, but rather, a small pub on the outreaches of the town. That's where Jean was heading, and he didn't care what his mother was currently feeling.

He could barely hear the plaza's clock strike twelve.

* * *

**District 2**

She clutched the book that she hid underneath her sweater as she ran. She made sure to hold it firmly and closely. Cassia Neuman was not going to PE today. No she was _not._ It was common for her to ditch class every once in awhile. Skip out too much, and they get suspicious; skip out too little, and she would be bored to tears.

Cassia knew that District 2 was once known as a "Career District" back in the Hunger Days. But ever since the Capitol was taken down, District 2 soon found itself grasping empty glory. The Career academies that were once used to train future "tributes" had no purpose. Well…_almost_ no purpose. Eventually those academies transformed into normal schools. (Normal schools…with a hardcore physical education program, that is). Cassia just decided that District 2 would always be infamous for the strength of its people, Hunger Days or not.

"You made it," said Livia Duncan, a black-haired and brown-eyed beauty. Cassia simply nodded at her friend who was setting out the tarp for them to sit. She slid the book from underneath her sweater. "What'd you bring?"

"_Always Faithful_ by Abrella Max," Cassia replied. A wide grin hung on Livia's face. Cassia watched as Livia moved closer to her. She felt Livia swipe the novel out of her hands. Livia hummed as she studied the back of the book and then proceeded to flip casually through the pages. "It's a great read. I've read it twice. I think the ending is amazing." Cassia then remained silent as she patiently waited for her friend to finish skimming. Livia finally lifted her gaze to meet Cassia's.

"What do you think?" Cassia asked calmly. "Do you wanna borrow it?"

"Nah."

Cassia blinked in response. "Oh." She began to reach for her book.

Livia giggled. She shook her head, her grin not showing any traces of diminishing. "I'm just kidding, Cassia."

"Oh." Livia then proceeded to laugh heartily. Livia was always smiling, always cracking jokes, always trying to have a good time. Cassia would sometimes be overwhelmed by Livia's outgoing personality. She was just so _out_ there. And Cassia was just so…not. But for some strange reason, Livia loved her anyway, and that was all that really mattered.

They spent the rest of the school day at the park, just chatting freely and occasionally reading out of the novel that she had brought. Eventually, the familiar private school bell rung in the distance, instinctively causing Cassia to stand up. A look of disappointment was evident on Livia's face, but she knew that Cassia had to go.

"See you tomorrow," Livia said. "So glad it's finally the weekend."

"Definitely. And I know you'll just enjoy that book."

Cassia walked for a mile or two before reaching her home: the well-known Neuman Resort and Recreation. She made her way through revolving doors. People came in along with her, dragging their luggage behind them. Others were just checking out, lugging their belongings in their arms and tucking magazines close to them. Cassia tried to guess which ones came from certain districts, but it everyone was moving too swiftly for her to tell.

Crisp lights illuminated the interior to perfection and the decorations were purely elegant. Chandeliers, fresh floral centerpieces, cushiony sofas…her mother had really outdone herself with the design. Cassia glanced down. Ooh. The added carpeting was a nice touch as well. And the new wallpaper seemed to fit the atmosphere.

"Cassiaaaa," a familiar voice sang.

"Yes, Julius?" Cassia watched her 10 year-old brother scramble to his feet as he approached her. He was holding an exclusive brown enveloped sealed with a golden label. Cassia's eyes widened slightly. Julius flashed a toothy smile, a devious, mischievous smile. His blonde hair was in a tangled mess and his greens eyes were flickering vividly in this light.

"Guess what came in the mail, redhead?" His grin was unwavering.

Cassia snatched the brown envelope out of Julius's prying hands. She tried to ignore his teasing comment, but she found herself examining a strand of her curly ginger hair. Cassia turned her back on him nonchalantly as she opened the letter addressed to her parents. She caught Julius standing on a coffee table while using his tiptoes to get a better view. Cassia nudged him gently, but he clung on to her arm.

Math. B. English. B. History. B. Next. B…B…B…oh. Next to "Physical Education" was a precisely curved "C." Cassia sighed. That's what she gets for wanting to ditch PE every now and then. But it didn't console her one bit. She bit her lip and frowned slightly. She felt herself grow more frustrated when her brother must've seen the big fat "C" too and started to "Ooooh" in contentment.

"Mom and Dad don't have to find out about this, don't they?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. But Julius said nothing. Instead, he grinned again. And that was probably worse than anything he could ever say. Cassia felt a single tear coming upon her, but she forced herself to suck it up.

"I'll take you back to the penthouse," Julius said. Cassia opened her mouth, ready to reject his offer. But the second her younger brother calmly grasped her hand, she let herself be dragged across the lobby. Her lip twitched just a little at the thought of her parents' reactions. Julius glanced up at her, his once bright face now faded away. "Aw, don't get so upset," he said. His new smile was softer, gentler. "I don't think they'll be mad at you…that much."

"Um, thanks."

As they neared the elevators, Cassia could feel the back of her neck heating up and her palms becoming clammy. When the elevator doors opened, her chest tightened. Julius was still holding her hand as they stepped inside. He pressed the button for the 20th floor. Elevator music idly played. Cassia scanned the enclosed area; she and Julius were completely alone.

One by one, they ascended every floor. One by one, Cassia's heart thudded faster and faster.

The elevator suddenly rocked gently as it slowed to the final level, the penthouse level. Cassia squeezed Julius's hand as they exited the elevator. He squeezed back. She reached for the key in her pocket as they approached the front door of the penthouse. Cassia felt the letter slide between her fingers as she finally got a hold of the key. Somewhat of a smile came upon her face once Julius picked it up, but it quickly went away.

Inside their well-furnished, well-polished home, Cassia could feel a looming dread hang over her. It wasn't the possible reactions her parents would have about her grades that made her halt. No, this was something worse, far worse. As Julius shut the door, Cassia took a deep breath. The penthouse was silent.

But Cassia and Julius both knew better. Cassia slipped her grades onto the kitchen counter. They crept across the hardwood floor. They stopped at the front of the master bedroom and went down on their knees. Cassia could hear herself and her brother breathe as softly as they could. They pressed their ears against the door and waited for a trace of sound. Yes…they heard it all right. But it was so faint they could barely make out the words.

Oh, their parents grew clever over the past few months. They thought they could tune out the yelling and the arguing if they disputed in their walk-in closet instead of in the main room.

"They take us for _fools,_" Cassia said quietly. She suppressed the bitterness that rested on her tongue. "They think we're unimportant and decide to leave us out of _everything._"

"I don't think so," Julius said slowly. "I think they care about us and just don't want us to see them fight." She watched him swallow. "They're…they're trying to protect us, I think." Tears were now streaming from his cheeks as he tried to hold back the choking sounds of his sobs. "Cassia…why do they hate each other so much?" Julius fell into Cassia's lap. She caressed his hair gently as teardrops gathered on her pants. "Will they get a divorce? I don't want them to get a divorce!"

"Shh shh…" Cassia wiped the tears off of Julius's face with the stroke of her fingers. "Everything's going to be okay," she said. "They won't get a divorce…it would just mess everything up."

She hated this. She hated her father for disregarding her mother's feelings of his petty flirtations. She hated her mother for bottling up her emotions so silently for so long. She hated how she had to _lie_ to her brother, to make empty promises of consolation just to give him temporary happiness that was guaranteed to fade away. Cassia felt like both the victim and the villain. And she knew it was only a matter of time before her parents tore the family apart.

For good.

Julius eventually settled down, and they both resorted to watching television in the living room. He yawned as he curled up against Cassia. The simple gesture almost got another smile out of her. Almost.

"By the way, redhead, I think there's another letter for you. It's not from the school…but it's for this…Youth thing? I was reading it and left it on my bed. Maybe you should go check it out…"

* * *

**District 3**

There was a shining blue lake that was not quite in District 3 and not quite in District 4. It officially became known as Lake 3.5 sometime after the Hunger Days. Lynix Erebol wanted to call it Lake Indigo, but no one else in District 3 sought to change it. District 3 was the center of Neo-Panem's hi-tech industry, which is precisely why Lynix needed to get away from it all. As his Nana once said, District 3 had become "for those seeking a luxury outside of District 1."

Lynix heard knocks at his back door. He stood up from the sofa and saw his friends Jay and Cleo wave to him on the other side of the screen door. Lynix grinned. Jay was clutching a picnic basket and Cleo was grasping a large jug of water. "Hey guys," he said as he opened the back door. Jay and Cleo walked in, dragging their supplies with them. "Jay, I thought you were helping out the elderly?"

Jay shook his head. He set the picnic basket on the foot of the kitchen table. "Nope, not today," he said. "They're getting ready for the big swimming competition tomorrow. They want to make posters and prepare meals for their family and stuff."

Cleo hauled the large jug of water across the room. When she set on the table, a huge sigh escaped her mouth. She glanced at Jay with a quirked eyebrow. "But it doesn't make sense, Jay. Why wouldn't they want your help for those things?"

"A pride thing, I suppose," Jay said. "Y'know, the competition is sort of, well, special. I _insisted_ on helping out, but. Um…they sort of kicked me out."

Cleo smirked. "That's hilarious." Jay frowned while Cleo simply chuckled. She tossed a brunette braid over her shoulder. She plopped herself on the family room sofa and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She glanced up at Lynix. "How did this thing become such a big deal?" Cleo asked. "We're not District 4, you know."

Lynix rolled his hazel eyes. He took the seat right next her. "It doesn't matter if we're not District 4," he said. "Besides, why should it? Just because most of the wealthy people here are engrossed in pointless technological gadgets…" Cleo shot Lynix a small glare, and he raised his hands up playfully in defense. "I did say 'most.' Anyways, it doesn't mean we can't do other things. We can swim if we want to."

"But why are so many people interested in this thing?"

"Oh Cleo," Jay said, "don't be so naïve." It was Jay's turn to receive a glare from Cleo. He and Lynix exchanged teasing grins. "You know how popular Lynix is. The guys just can't say no to him when he first asked them to check out the lake. And then it all just…happened."

For a brief moment, Lynix's thoughts wandered back to Lake Indigo. District 3's unofficial swimming competition would be held there, and the lake had a special hold on Lynix's heart. He could almost feel as if he was 12 again, immersing his feet into the lake as his Nana's hand clasped over his. He could almost hear her warmhearted laugh as he visualized himself splashing around on the lake's shore.

"Lynix…Lynix?"

Cleo's voice snapped him back to reality. Lynix blinked rapidly. "Huh? Wh-what were you saying Cleo?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "I was _saying_ that we should probably go now," Cleo said, somewhat annoyed. She was near the table, ready to haul the water jug for another long journey. "We're not going to the lake, are we? We wouldn't make it there and back till tomorrow…"

"I wish," Lynix replied wistfully. He glimpsed in Jay's direction and arched an eyebrow. Jay arched an eyebrow in response. Lynix smiled. Jay smiled, but it was a little…off somehow. Cleo simply stood there, utterly confused. Lynix was thinking it, and he wondered if Jay was too. It would be nice to go to Lake Indigo before it got crowded for the big day. It was such a beautiful lake. Nice…clean…scenic. And the temperature was ideal this time of year.

"Hey, don't leave me out of your stupid eyebrow raising contest!"

Jay and Lynix roared with laughter, causing Cleo to stomp her foot on the ground. Her reaction only triggered more laughter; Lynix could feel his sides ache. He slowly made his way towards Cleo as she leaned on the kitchen table. He glanced upwards at her scowling face, chuckles still emitting from him right and left. Cleo's eyes met his, and she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a giggle. Lynix pointed a triumphant finger and wagged it in front of Cleo's face.

"Made you laugh…" he managed to say softly.

Cleo bit her lip and rolled her eyes, but her smile was still there. She ruffled his ashen hair.

They ended up eating a couple miles away from District 3. The lake was over 20 miles away from the outskirts of the district, so walking there wasn't exactly ideal. On competition day, many families would carpool together in order to be on time for the big event. Lynix's family would occasionally drive there for family outings. But it was his Nana who first introduced them to it.

Nighttime was falling upon the streets of District 3. Cleo had gone back to her private manor two hours before Lynix and Jay had started to leave. She was a year younger than the two of them, after all. Her father didn't like the idea of her staying alone with two older boys past sundown. (And they weren't bad-looking, either).

Lynix's hands were stuffed in his shorts' pocket as Jay swung the picnic basket back and forth. For some reason, Jay hadn't said much since they left. Lynix had tried to start a conversation, but Jay had responded with simple one-word answers. He stopped on the sidewalk and waited to see if Jay was paying attention. Lynix leaned against a lamppost. Jay finally whipped around when he realized Lynix wasn't walking with him.

"Something up?" The picnic basket was no longer swinging.

"What's up with you?" Lynix asked. His eyes reflected a hint of sadness. "You haven't talked all that much since we left the site. Something's up. I know you Jay; you have to let me know."

Jay scratched his neck. "Nothing's up…'cept the sky."

"Tell me," Lynix said, his voice serious. He gradually made his way towards Jay, who was glancing at the ground as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Jay, _look_ at me. What's wrong?"

"Nah…"

Lynix exhaled deeply. "Jay, _tell_ me."

"If I tell you, you'll just take it too defensively," Jay mumbled so lowly Lynix could barely hear. Lynix narrowed his eyes.

"No I won't!"

But Jay merely shook his head. "See?" he said. "There you go, doing what I said you'd do. Look, Lynix…I…I'm not swimming in the competition tomorrow. B-but I'll be happy to watch you and cheer for you on the sidelines! I'll be making snacks…and I can get Cleo to help me make a huge poster…"

"Why?" Lynix rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and began to clench a fist with the other. "It's _tradition!_" He could hear his heart thumping loudly in his head. Lynix's eyes began to sting, but he fought the tears that began to pour out. "We've been doing this for two years, now. Two _years!_"

"I know, but-"

"You and I, we _founded_ this thing! We…we…it was just the two of us. You love swimming. I don't…I don't get it. Why would you _quit_ on me like this?"

Jay's expression was rigid as he stared at Lynix. Lynix stared back, his face equally as rigid as Jay's. "Look," Jay began, "I'm quitting because, I'm _done._ I used to _love_ to swim, but I don't love it as much as you do. I know this means a lot to you, and for that, it means a lot to me. But my heart's just not in it anymore. It's not because of you. It's just…well; swimming's not my thing anymore."

He didn't want to hear the rest of it. He just took off in the direction of his home, sprinting as fast as he could. Lynix glanced slightly over his shoulder to see if Jay was in pursuit of his trail, but he wasn't. Lynix wasn't sure if he was glad Jay hadn't come to "calm him down" or if he was disappointed by the fact that he didn't. Whatever. He was a liar, a betrayer, a traitor, and a backstabber. Lynix didn't want to deal with that right now.

The door opened and slammed as quickly as Lynix came in. His mother was preparing sandwiches while his father was helping her pack. They both knew better than to disturb him when he was pissed off. But his mother spoke anyway.

"Lynix…"

He swore. She just _had_ to speak when he was about to enter his room.

"I need you to pick up the cheese tray from the deli at around 12 tomorrow. You know…the deli that Cleo's family owns?"

Well _of course_ he knew which deli it was. Did she take him for an idiot? Nevertheless, Lynix agreed to do it. He muttered to himself before entering his room. The last thing he heard before falling asleep were Jay's words repeating over and over again in his head. The last thing he saw was his Nana's face. But instead, she wasn't smiling.

It was almost as if she was…crying.

* * *

**District 4**

She stood in front of the mirror as she held the curling iron. She was in the process of curling a portion of her dirty blonde hair into ringlets. Her face was tan, tanner than usual due to the recent amount of fishing trips she and her family had been going to lately. But Andrea Vanguard didn't mind. The tan made her large, dark brown eyes blend better with her skin. She poked the three studded piercings that were on each ear.

"Andrea…we're waiting, for you." Her baby brother's voice chimed as it entered the bathroom.

"I'm coming, Mattie!" She still wasn't quite done with the section of her hair. "Just hold on a sec. Tell Mom I'm almost done and that I'll be out soon." Andrea hummed and bobbed her head as she curled her hair. In the distance, she could hear a brief ringing sound. Mattie's footsteps were distinguishable as she heard him dart outside the hall.

"Andrea, Isis and Zano and Lysander are here…I think you should come out now."

Andrea shook her head and chuckled loosely. "I'll be out in a sec," she said as the curling iron almost touched her tips. Her brow arched slightly as she heard the doorknob fidget. She saw it wobble unsteadily from the corner of her eye. "Oh Mattie," Andrea said, a smile upon her lips. "Just be patient. I told you; I'm almost done."

The doorknob was still squirming when she finally had finished. Andrea unplugged the hot curling iron and tucked it inside a cabinet. When she unlocked the door, the blue-eyed, blonde-haired Mattie stumbled into the bathroom. A grin crossed his face as he released his death grip on the door handle. Andrea couldn't help but giggle. She grabbed him by the shirt and gave him a heartfelt noogie.

"Slow down, heartthrob," she said, her smile unwavering.

"Aw, shut up," Mattie mumbled. "That's not a self-proclaimed title, you know." He made a small kicking motion at nothing towards the ground. He wriggled his way out of Andrea's arms and straightened himself out. "Let's go Andrea. Mom's got the cake on the dining room table and Dad and Konan are just sitting and waiting. Lysander, Isis and Zano are admiring your baby pictures."

"What?"

"I'm kidding."

Andrea rolled her eyes and laughed. "Let's go," she said, and she messed with Mattie's hair as they walked.

The first thing that happened to her as she entered the dining hall was have an auburn-haired blur zoom towards her from across the room. Ah…Isis. She could be so dramatic sometimes. Andrea grinned as Isis's arms wrapped tautly around her body, almost squeezing her to death.

"I was so worried about you," Isis said. Yes, definitely dramatic. Isis sighed and loosened her grip on Andrea. Andrea sighed as well. She could feel the blood circulating better throughout her body. Isis may not be strong, but she could be when she wanted to.

"I was just curling my hair," Andrea said. She chuckled. "You're such a worry wart." A flash of hurt flickered in Isis's eyes, but Andrea didn't say anything to console her. It was just a joke, after all. She poked fun at everyone, so why should she exclude one of her dearest and best friends from all of her poking-fun-at-everyone fun? (Yes, Isis could be a tad bit sensitive, but it was all utterly harmless).

Really.

"Happy seventeenth birthday, Andrea," her mom said.

Andrea smiled as her mother wiped a tear from a glittering blue eye. Her father, Lysander and Zano all acknowledged her coming of age by repeating the same words used by her mom. Isis simply seemed to be at a loss of words. Andrea raised an eyebrow at her other younger brother, Konan. He simply nodded his head. Andrea moseyed right up to him and gave a good, hard punch in his right arm (that was his good arm). Just to ensure he couldn't punch back, of course.

Konan cussed freely as he rubbed his sore arm.

"Ooh, you swore," Mattie said. He ran next to Konan and punched him as well (yes, in his good arm). Andrea laughed uncontrollably as Konan swore again. Mattie joined in on the laughter. A disapproving look was apparent on Isis's face while Zano simply eyed her in amusement. Konan rolled his eyes and stood up. He began to walk away from the dining table.

"Konan, you should really be here for your sister's party," her mother insisted. "It's the last birthday she'll have before becoming an adult."

He didn't say anything; he just left. Neither her mother nor her father did anything to stop him. Andrea just shrugged. Konan constantly wanted to live by his rules, his ways. And Andrea had to admit it, she wanted to too.

Presents first, she always said. It was a small party, so there wasn't much to receive. Mattie gave her a bunch of simple colored pictures and two packs of her favorite brand of gum. Their funds weren't the greatest this year, so her mom said that the cake was her birthday present. Andrea valued her mother's efforts and chuckled. Her father, with his calm and cool expression, had bought her a new cookbook. Andrea was fairly good at cooking, so the gesture was much appreciated.

"We have no present for you," Zano said. He yawned. "Sorry."

Andrea eyed him suspiciously. "Why is that?" she asked. Andrea felt a little selfish for asking that, but she continued to glance at Zano awkwardly. She shifted her view towards Lysander and Isis. Isis was twiddling her thumbs in an odd manner. "Come on you guys, you must have gotten me _something._"

Zano exited the room. Everyone waited in silence until he returned. He was holding something sleek…something familiar to her eyes. Andrea's eyes widened and her mouth hung open. It couldn't be, could it? Was it really there in Zano's arms, just appearing right before her hopeful eyes? Yes it _was. _Her gaping jaw was replaced with a stretching grin.

He was holding a bow. And across his shoulder he wore a pack with polished silver arrows. The initial thought that raced into her mind was _I am going to be just like Katniss Everdeen._ Andrea was so ecstatic about the entire ordeal that she shoved through Isis and Lysander and snatched the bow and arrows from Zano's grip. She could feel a cascade of tears ready to stream upon her cheeks, but she forced them back.

"How did you afford it?" she asked Zano in awe.

"Lysander and Isis pitched in and helped me out," he said. "We purchased this bad boy courtesy of District 2."

Afterwards, she said nothing. Andrea said nothing and did nothing but stare at the flawless silver bow that she was holding. It was the perfect bow. It was her bow. When she was younger, Andrea would make simple bows out of twigs, but _damn._ Those were nothing compared to what she was holding. In that moment, if anyone would try to take her bow away from her, Andrea swore that she would bite them.

And then she imitated Konan and sprinted out of the house without a care in the world.

"I'm going to be like Katniss Everdeen," she sang. "Katniss _Everdeen._" Andrea could hear her mother's voice call out in the distance—something about cake—but Andrea paid no heed. She was going to be like Katniss _Everdeen!_ Oh sure. Andrea wasn't any good at aiming or using a bow and arrow in general. But did it matter? She skipped and she laughed and she cried as she wandered off into the woods. Katniss Everdeen liked the woods, after all.

Andrea wiped away her tears before settling down in an unknown region of a forest. For a second, she pondered on how the hell she would find her way back home. She shrugged.

"I'll just wing it." And then she fell flat on her back and laughed.

Eventually her mad fit of giggles went away, and so Andrea was ready to test out her new gift. She grabbed a shiny silver arrow that was just as shiny and just as silver as her bow. Her breath slowed; her vision became clear. Andrea placed all of her concentration on the center of a tree. A blur of silver sliced through the afternoon air. She watched as the arrow went askew and struck a bush instead. Andrea's brow furrowed. She reached for another arrow. This time, she adjusted her aim and narrowed her focus. She released.

It hit the ground. No luck.

"Come on…" she muttered to herself whilst grabbing another arrow. This time, her arrow skid against the edges of the tree. Andrea beamed, spreading a cheesy grin. She did it! (Well, not exactly. But she was getting there).

Her ears suddenly twitched. "Isis?" Nope. Andrea scratched her head as she lowered the bow. She could've sworn she heard something. Softly, quietly, she heard a faint rustling somewhere. "Zano?" No response. Andrea frowned. She readied another arrow and raised her bow. She tiptoed stealthily, trying to see who was coming near her. There! She heard it again. Andrea twirled around and pulled back her arrow. "Lysander?"

But the man standing in front of her was not Lysander.

In fact, he wasn't anyone she knew.

* * *

**District 5**

When his shift at the power plant was over, the sun was already setting. He took a moment to wipe his brow and catch his breath. He sat himself on a bench and watched his coworkers walk by in a mass of weary expressions and slumping bodies. Israel Delgado nodded politely to his father. His father simply nodded back. His father didn't say anything to him; he didn't need to. There was nothing to be said after a long shift at the plant. All that was really needed was for his father to go home.

Israel nodded again, but this time it was to his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Cathy Pennant. Her hair was brown and closely cropped, and her clothes were far from feminine. Judging from the way she moved and the way she smiled as she sat down next to him, the two of them were definitely "off" this week.

Cathy leaned back as she sat. "Izzy…you're not going to today, are you?" Her brown eyes met his grays. Izzy stared back at her, his face still and reserved. He didn't speak; he was a mute after all, but he didn't bother to respond with gestures. Cathy pursed her lips together. "You _are,_ aren't you?"

He nodded.

She stood up and shook her head. "He's a nice guy, you know," she suddenly said. Israel simply raised a brow at her abrupt shift in tone. Cathy's eyes drifted up towards the multicolored sky. "He's sensible…like you, but he doesn't do what, well, _you_ do."

Izzy scrunched his brow at her. He didn't care who "he" was and didn't see why he should. Cathy tended to go on and on about nothing, and he had no choice but to let her. On occasions when he really didn't want to hear what she had to say, Israel would merely hold up his hand. But today, she seemed rather happy. So he let her.

"You should get yourself out of this rut, Israel." Izzy listened more intently at the sound of his formal name. She gave him a soft smile. He didn't smile back, but he didn't frown. "Well, I better get going. He and I…we're going out tonight."

He simply nodded right before she walked away. (Whoever this guy was, Izzy knew the two of them wouldn't last). Cathy glanced over her shoulder twice before leaving. He honestly didn't care what she thought of his second job; it was his life. To her it was "impractical," but to him, it was the only practical option he had. There were two sides to every coin and gray shades in between. But people like Cathy, he figured, only saw the sides and not the shades.

And who was she, really, to tell him how to live his life?

Izzy tended to come home through the back door rather than the front. The front door made a far too grand of an entrance. So he resorted to slipping through the back door. It was quieter, easier, and less conspicuous.

His room was the closest room to the back, so he could slink by without any notice. The blinds of his bedroom window were completely sealed. Izzy locked the door as it shut behind him. He waited. He listened. When he was certain that footsteps weren't near, Izzy slid open his closet. Bags and bags of drugs piled on top of each other in neat little rows.

His stepmother was the only one aware of his "side job." And bless her soul, she would go out her way to try and cover for him. Izzy knew she didn't wholeheartedly approve of his "job," but at least she was satisfied enough at the fact it brought money to the table.

Izzy wasn't a professional. He wasn't slick or sly or sneaky enough to have his whereabouts go unnoticed. Others could perform the drug trade with such precision and such subtlety that it _astonished_ him. Izzy…well, Izzy was just a guy trying to get by.

He snatched several small bags and stuffed them in his coat pockets before leaving. Israel exhaled slowly as he left his room. His hand was gripping the knob of the back door, but he stopped. Izzy went up to his bedroom door and checked to see if it was locked. It was. Sighing again, he managed to exit the house this time.

District 5 was used mainly for power 75 years ago. After Katniss Everdeen brought down the Capitol, it additionally became infamous for "rumors" of the illegal drug trade and its precarious business practices. Israel thought this to be too much of a generalization. The drug trade was interconnected between _all_ of the districts. District 5 merely happened to be at the center of its publicity.

Izzy eventually ended up in the most rustic and seedy neighborhood in District 5. The dirtiest of the dirty and the most crooked of the crooks only dared to take comfort in this hostile place. Houses were strewn here and there. There wasn't even a street, just a dirt-paved trail. The residential side of the neighborhood faced a huge landfill that would be lit on fire every eighth Saturday. The place might have been risky, but the people there were all willing to pay to get wasted.

Ka-ching.

"Izzy, my man," said a husky voice. Israel turned to see his regular client, Richard Madras. He was a lanky, malnourished man with long black hair hanging back and his face in a stubble. People nicknamed him "Rich" because he was the wealthiest poor man anyone could ever meet. A garbage man and a thief, Rich could be quite the sneak. (If he wasn't so wasted all the time).

Rich sat upright and tugged on his coat. Izzy folded his arms, his face frigid. Rich pulled out a wad of crumpled bills after taking off his left shoe. He grinned, but Izzy's expression didn't waver. Richard waved the cash weakly as he sat in the dirt, the grin still hanging on his face.

Izzy seized the cold cash from Rich's rough fingers. He eyed him cautiously. Rich was alright, but Izzy would never let anyone, not even someone he knew fairly well, rip him off. He counted the bills and decided that Richard maintained his reliability. He opened his coat and cautiously reached for a small bag. Israel closed his coat and handed Rich the bag.

"Pleasure doing business with yah," Rich said. He leaned back onto the chain link fence that separated the landfill from the rest of the district.

"_Madras!_" This time, the voice was female. Israel and Rich cocked their heads down the "street" to find a silhouette running towards them in the distance. Richard quickly stood up, his hands slightly quaking. "I know for a _fact_ you owe me. You dirty, thieving _weasel._ You better get over here and pay for that watch you stole. Yeah, I know all about it you lousy _scum!_ I have cops right on your ass!"

Rich cursed under his breath. "Exes," he said. He laughed and stole a glimpse at Israel. "You understand my pain, am I right?" Izzy nodded. Richard began to shift nervously as a siren rang in the distance. "Damn, this girl wasn't kidding about the cops." He stumbled before fleeing off in the other direction. "Go, Izzy! The cops could get you too!"

He knew better than to run away like some wild maniac (who also happened to leave behind his drugs). Israel just coolly crossed the street and slipped into the backyard of someone's house. He didn't know who it was, but did it matter? Odds were the owner was high or willing to become high.

He heard the crunching off the dirt not too far away. "You're Israel, right?" Izzy nodded, but frowned at a young man standing in front of him. It was pronounced "Yis-ra-el," and it was much to his disappointment that he couldn't tell people otherwise. The man looked to be around his 20s. He was cleaner-looking than most folk around the area, but awfully skinny.

"I'm Jacob, a friend of Buggy's."

Izzy didn't understand what Jacob expected from him simply by declaring to be a friend of Buggy Hale. So he was someone Buggy knew. Big deal. Buggy knew tons of people. The drug trade was a spider web of criminals and junkies, after all.

"Look," Jacob began, "I know I don't seem like much…I'm not much, really. But I know Buggy and Buggy knows me. We're tight." Izzy wanted to sign, "And your point is?" but he figured the guy couldn't understand sign language. So he kept quiet and allowed Jacob to continue. "Buggy wanted me to let you know that he's changed some plans up." Israel lifted an eyebrow. "He wants to meet you at his place tomorrow. 12 o'clock sharp. He told me and several others to tell you if we happened to see you pass by."

It was odd for Buggy Hale to request such a thing, but Buggy Hale was someone Izzy couldn't turn down. He owed it to Buggy Hale for stealing drugs in exchange for 70 percent of his revenue. Israel couldn't pinpoint where or when or _how_ Buggy acquired the drugs, but the important thing was that he got them. And thanks to Buggy, his family could afford things they couldn't have before.

He nodded to Jacob before leaving. Israel concluded that selling today wasn't exactly the best idea, not with the cops searching for Rich. Tonight, he'd go home with just a slim amount cash. But it was better than nothing.

Tomorrow, he hoped that Buggy wouldn't cut him off the trade.

* * *

**District 6**

"Tell me," he began, "what's it like to have everything taken away?"

Niarh Orea glanced over at Dray, the one boy she could count on for anything. People would describe Dray as "typical;" he had brown hair, brown eyes, a simple smile. But to Niarh, Dray wasn't typical. He protected her. He provided for her. He dared to step up and be the person that nobody else wanted to be.

Dray didn't have to do any of that. He wasn't family. He didn't owe her. Dray was just a down-to-earth good guy. An orphan boy. He was only 19, caring for a girl who was only 13. Sure, she had the orphanage, but the orphanage didn't do squat. It only provided shelter and nothing else. And even though Niarh never had one, she figured that having Dray was just like having an older brother.

The two of them were on their backs, watching the cloudless morning sky on grassy terrain. They hadn't had much to eat so far, but they were off to a decent start. Dray had picked some berries growing in the woods outside of District 6. Earlier, a little boy had given Niarh the other half of his chocolate coated candy bar.

Niarh felt Dray nudge her softly in the side. "Hmm?"

"You didn't answer my question," he said slowly. Niarh bit her lip and sighed. She leaned against Dray and felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed. "I'm…I'm sorry if this is too awkward for you. But I'm just curious. I know what happened. I saw your pain. But I don't know what you're thinking, Niarh. I see how you feel, but I don't know what's like. It'd be nice to know, Niarh."

"Well," she said quietly as her gaze lost itself in transparent tints of blue. "How do you think it would feel?" She didn't ask it with malicious intent; Niarh merely wanted to hear Dray's perspective.

"I wouldn't know," Dray admitted. "I've never really had anything to begin with."

Niarh paused, giving herself a moment to think. She folded her hands together. "Hmm. I suppose you have me."

She felt him sigh. "That's true," he said, "but I can't imagine losing you."

He always knew what to say. For a minute or two, nothing was said between them. Niarh could feel a poignant sting poke at her insides. She instinctively felt her hand slip over Dray's, clinging tightly for support. He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. Niarh's heart fluttered. Dray always knew what to do.

"Yeah," she finally said. Her simple word cut through the silence despite her soft tone. She gnawed lightly at her lower lip. "I guess it's easier to be born with nothing than to be born with everything, only to have it stripped away later."

Niarh released her hold on Dray's hand and sat upright on the grass. The view from the hillside wasn't breathtaking, but it was rather…nice. If you tilted your head in one direction, you could see foliage stretching across the landscape. If you tilted your head the other way, there lied the suburbs of District 6. And if you stood on your tiptoes, leaned forward and squinted just a little, you could see the trains loading and unloading passengers in the distance.

District 6 was considered the midpoint connecting the other districts. But of course, that was due to its emphasis on transportation. Niarh, nor any of the regular residents, traveled much. But there were always fresh faces coming and in and out of the district as they moved from one place to another. After the Mockingjay saved Panem from the Capitol, the districts intercommunicated swiftly and effectively.

"I guess I should go to school now, shouldn't I?" Niarh asked. She smiled gently.

Dray sat up and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Though you don't _have_ to. I…I know how you don't really know anybody there. And I don't want you having a hard time." He scratched the back of his neck. She felt Dray slug her lightly in the shoulder. "You can stay here, if you want. We can go pick berries or see if the ice cream shop is giving out free samples."

"It's okay, I'll go. Even though I don't want to, I want to."

On one hand, she didn't want to go because of the students there. It's not as if she hated them, but it wasn't as if she liked them. On the other hand, going to school was the only opportunity Niarh had to better her life. Dray himself was uneducated, and Niarh wanted to _become_ something one day. She didn't want to scour the streets forever.

And at least school was free.

She squirmed in her seat, her thumbs fiddling across the metal desk. Ms. Fischer was lecturing the class on grammar and whatnot, but Niarh simply fixated her eyes on her hands. She sat in the center of the classroom. It wasn't by choice (had it been, Niarh would have preferred to sit at the back corner). Sweat gathered on her neck. Niarh's breath came out in staggered puffs.

She was surrounded by people. Too. Many. People.

"You dropped your pencil," said the hushed voice of the boy to her right.

Niarh gazed at the floor slowly. She nodded, but refused to make any eye contact. She bent over and outstretched her arm. The pencil was still out of her reach. Niarh leaned further and further outwards until her fingertips touched the edge. She gave a weak smile at her almost-victory. But as she felt herself slide off the chair and collide with the ground, her smile was replaced with a quiet frown.

She heard it. She heard the laughter of her classmates bellow into her ears like never-ending echoes. Cackling snorts, shrieking giggles, hearty laughs…Niarh was enclosed in a barrier of humiliation. Her classmates continued on and on, and Niarh feared that they would never stop. No tears. She had…to…fight…tears.

But alas, she couldn't.

Niarh eventually grabbed her pencil, her head down and her auburn hair falling over her eyes. She could just envision the various expressions of her peers. She bet that they were all reveling in her utter embarrassment. All the boys probably hung wide, satisfied smirks whereas the girls wore malicious grins. She could just _envision _it.

"Niarh, please get back to your seat," Ms. Fischer said abruptly. "Unlike you, the rest of the class wants to _become_ something one day. I don't need you sliding off of your butt and hugging the floor."

This earned another series of laughter that filled the room. Niarh's hands were shaking so fiercely that by the time she reached her seat, the pencil slipped amidst her fingers. Her lower lip quivered as she heard it roll off of her desk and clack onto the floor. Niarh exhaled heavily and slowly. Stay calm. Stay calm. She kept her eyes narrowed onto the desk.

"You…dropped your pencil," the same boy said, though she could tell by his voice that he wasn't trying to not chuckle.

Niarh ignored him. Instead of picking up her pencil, she decided to bury her face in her arms.

"Niarh," she heard Ms. Fischer snap, "_Niarh._ This isn't naptime. Niarh…oh _look_ at me, will you?"

She just wanted Dray by her side. A part of her wished that she hadn't gone to school. A part of her wished she had just stayed with Dray. She could be picking berries right now. She could be getting free samples at the ice cream shop. She didn't _have_ to be here right now. School wasn't mandatory if you were an orphan.

But this was worth it. This all just _had_ to be worth it.

Niarh snapped back to reality as the sound of Ms. Fischer's ruler slapping her desk. The class giggled, but it was quieter than usual. "If you do not wish to learn," Ms. Fischer said, "then perhaps you should go to the principal's office? Hmm?"

They all hated her. Everyone hated her. Why, _why_ did they hate her? Was it funny for everyone to be against her? Because Niarh didn't hate them. And Niarh didn't think it was funny at all. She just wanted to be left alone. She just wanted to be with Dray.

"Well, Niarh? Shall I send you to the principal's office for causing such a disturbance to the class? And wipe your eyes. There's no reason for you to be crying so much."

Nobody understood. Nobody would ever understand except Dray. But Niarh simply glanced up at Ms. Fischer and shook her head. "No," she said so softly that Ms. Fischer had to come closer to hear. Niarh rubbed her wet eyes and choked out lightly. She felt a lump in her throat. The swelling in her chest refused to go away. She swallowed. "I'll behave."

The final school bell chimed, causing students to shove their way out of the building. Niarh kept to herself as the school emptied. Everyone exited through the main entrance, so Niarh took the back. When she opened the single door, Dray was on a tree stump waiting for her. She sprang forward and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. She buried her face in his chest, unable to suppress her sobs.

"Same as always?" he asked quietly.

"Same as always."

By the end of the day, Niarh was back at the orphanage. Dray slept outside the facility, seeing as the orphanage only allowed orphans under the age of 19 to reside in the building. She slept with her back flat on the bed and the ceiling fan humming above her. She sighed in her sleep. Her hands rested over her stomach, clutching a letter.

The people of Panem highly valued her input.

It was going to be worth it. It all just _had_ to be worth it.

* * *

**A/N** I hope you enjoyed this chapter. You'll meet the rest of the participants next time. I wanted to make these intros brief, but I wanted to make them long enough so that you get a sense of who each character is. Don't worry; you'll get to know them more as time passes.

Which one is your favorite so far? Which one do you think has the most chance of winning what the Neo-Capitol has in store?


	3. At the Stroke of Twelve, pt 2

**A/N** OH WOW AN UPDATE. WOO. Thank you everyone for your critiques and support. I appreciate your feedback. You guys rock!

**As a note of last chapter, **I personally pronounce Niarh as "Nye-arr."

Now, onwards!

* * *

**The Process of Elimination**

"_A man does not make his destiny: he accepts or denies it."_ -Ursula K. Le Guin

Chapter 2:  
At the Stroke of Twelve, pt 2

* * *

**District 7**

"Order up!"

Landon Oaks smiled at Diana Smith, a girl with silky black hair and light brown eyes. Diana held a tray containing three dishes as she slid past the swinging doors. Diana winked at Landon as she made her way towards the center of the diner. "Am I employee of the month yet?" she asked with an arched brow. Landon crossed his arms and chuckled lightly as Diana delivered the plates to table seven.

"Maybe you should wait until the _end_ of the month for that decision," he said.

Diana laughed and rolled her eyes. "Sure, boss. But is there any way I could _guarantee_ that decision? Let's say…oh, I don't know. Maybe Friday night? My house?"

She tilted her head so that a few strands of hair fell on her face. Diana smacked her lips and gave Landon an inviting smirk. Landon raised his eyebrows in playful amusement, but he said nothing in response. Diana frowned. He knew she didn't like it when he left her hanging, which is precisely why he did it. Landon sashayed towards Diana as she pouted. He leaned close to her, so close that his lips nearly brushed against her ear.

"Why don't you go to table four and take their order?" he asked, his voice in an alluring whisper.

Whatever came out Diana's mouth sounded like a mixture of a squeak and a growl. Landon felt quite content at this and didn't hold back a huge grin. Diana huffed. She gave Landon a hard-earned shove before pulling out a small notepad. She swayed her hips as she moved towards table four. Landon could only chuckle once more as he turned his back and began to head for the kitchen.

District 7 was all about lumber: before, during, and after the Hunger Days. It didn't matter. The other districts certainly required lumber for housing and commercial development, and lumber was District 7's main source of income. Since District 7 was abundant with trees, why not use that to their advantage? Practically everyone was related to the raw lumber industry in some way, shape or form.

Except for the Oaks family.

Ironically.

They owned an eatery, the Oaks' Family Diner, which had been passed down from father to son through the course of generations. It was humble, but it served some fine cuisine. Not a single soul dared to callously criticize the cleanliness, the services, nor the dishes. Anyone who came into the diner left with a feeling of quality food and a friendly atmosphere.

"I wouldn't eat here if I were you." Landon's ears twitched at the sound of a familiar female voice. "I hear this place violates a numerous amount of health code violations."

"Most definitely," said another female voice, "I hear cockroaches swarm the floors. Rats scourge the kitchen. The walls are spotted with mold and the freezer is-"

Feet against the floor, Landon felt himself leap across the diner and land face-to-face with the slanderous duo: Joanne and Jaylo Oaks. Those two were thirteen year-old identical twin devils from the furthest reaches of Hell. He clasped his left hand over Joanne's mouth and his right hand over Jaylo's. His beaded face tightened into a harsh scowl. Joanne and Jaylo glimpsed at each other through the corner of their eyes.

"What are you two _Baby_ Oaklings doing?" he asked through clenching jaws. He could feel both pairs of their teeth bite his palms, and he promptly removed his hands. Landon sighed and proceeded to scrub his hands on his pair of slacks. He noticed that some people were glancing over to where he was, so he calmed himself. (He was a naturally laidback person, but even naturally laidback people couldn't be laidback when dealing with Joanne and Jaylo Oaks).

"Don't call us that, dear brother," Joanne said, eyes narrowing. "It's quite annoying."

Jaylo twirled a strand of her curly brown hair. "And if you don't stop calling us that, we won't stop badmouthing your restaurant."

Landon blinked, his face in a quiet stupor. "But this is the family business. Why do you two _insist_ on ruining it?"

Joanne yawned in a nonchalant manner. "Because it's fun," she said. She waved around her hand and placed the other firmly on her hip. She glanced once more at Jaylo.

Landon shook his head. He paused for a moment before speaking again. "Wait," he said, "shouldn't you two be in Saturday School?"

Jaylo shrugged. "Shouldn't you be taking orders or cooking food or doing something other than talking to us?"

"As the manager of this fine eatery," Landon said coolly, "I have to deal with whatever disturbances shall arise in my restaurant. Now, ladies. _Please. _You're making a scene. I will ask you two to leave in a polite fashion. If you do not abide by my orders, then I will have you two leave by force."

Landon released a tightly held breath as Joanne and Jaylo exchanged irritating snorts. They giggled about how "adorable" and "funny" his statement was, causing Landon to scratch the back of his head. He glanced around, sweat on the back of his neck as he frantically searched through a sea of faces. But he didn't know exactly what he hoped to find. He watched as customers set aside their utensils and placed all eyes on him. It would be bad for business for him to yell at his sisters. He really had no idea what to do.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Diana.

"Boss?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

Landon frowned. "Help me take them to the back."

It had been a few minutes since Joanne and Jaylo strutted in the diner with smug grins and intentions to disturb the modest peace Landon worked so hard to create. Of course, it wasn't likely that his customers would _believe_ their ludicrous statements. Nevertheless, it was still obnoxious and not something anyone would love to hear before, during, or after a nice meal. Now, the four have them were in a utilities closet. Diana had her arms folded across her chest and Landon wore a contemplative expression.

As for Joanne and Jaylo, well, one could say their situation was "tight."

"You can't just tie us up!" said Joanne. She jerked around as she sat on the floor, rope constricted around her body as well as Jaylo's. "It's bad for your stupid business."

"I can't just let you run free," Landon said, shoulders in a shrug. Joanne narrowed her eyes sharply at her older brother while Jaylo's hands fiddled from underneath the rope. "That's even worse for my business." He glanced over at Diana, who was shaking her head in disapproval. People may have been wondering where the manager had went, but Diana was no matter. Her shift was almost over anyways.

Jaylo smirked. "We can always scream," she pointed out nonchalantly. "Then you can come to us about how bad your stupid business will be."

"Why are you two doing this?" Landon asked, his voice on the verge of cracking. He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "I mean…" There was a sudden shift in tone. "I know you two are devious. But you've never attacked the family business before." Landon's forest green eyes focused onto Joanne. His face remained soft while his eyes hardened slightly. "Why now? Don't you care about Dad's legacy?"

Joanne spat at his feet. Landon took a small step back. "We _do_ care," Joanne said. Her chest lifted and fell as she exhaled. Joanne's eyes didn't wander over to Jaylo's as they usually did. Instead, Joanne preferred to stare emptily at the floor beneath her legs. "But we care about Hazel more."

Landon's eyes widened at the mentioning of the baby of the family. He felt Diana's stare fall on his face.

"You can be so careless, brother," said Jaylo. "Time slips away from you like water through fingers. Don't _tell_ me you forgot. It's almost twelve."

Running. Landon was quite excellent at running. He had entrusted Diana to untie the twin brats and make sure they arrived at Saturday School. He knew Joanne and Jaylo well enough that they wouldn't be causing any more trouble. For him, at least. (He couldn't make any promises to the school). But it wasn't his devilish twin sisters he was concerned with at the moment.

It was Hazel. Being four years old, Hazel was still dependent on everyone, mainly Landon. Saturdays were the worst for her; it's the one day where Hazel was left completely home alone. Their mother was attending college in hopes of gaining a degree. Joanne and Jaylo obviously attended Saturday School and Landon had to work. Then there was Clarisol, a spoiled little eight year-old that refused to take responsibility of her youngest sibling. Clarisol often wandered through town, doing whatever she fancied. The only reason reasons neighbors didn't report them was because they knew the Oaks family well.

Hazel was a deep sleeper. She was sweet and playful, but she was always so tired. Twelve o'clock is when she usually awoke and became ready for the day. It was habitual for Landon to be there when Hazel woke up so he could provide her brunch courtesy of the family diner. She couldn't cook for herself, after all.

A Styrofoam box filled with sandwiches was cradled in Landon's left arm as he dug for his house keys. Landon stuck them through the keyhole and twisted the knob. He pushed the door forward, but it only budged slightly. Landon shrugged and gave the door a harder shove. It still wouldn't open.

"Alright," Landon said. "Let's try the back."

But he had no luck there either. He was becoming more irritable, more frustrated. Landon was naturally calm, but there were some things that could easily send him over the edge. Like having no access to Hazel. Landon contemplated breaking a window, but he didn't want to freak her out. He bit his lip and set the food on the picnic table they had in the backyard. With both arms free, Landon tried to force the back door open.

He could feel an electrical surge rush through him. He felt as if he was outside of his body: watching his grip on the knob loosen, his body crumpling to the floor. But there was one thing that stood out to him. Something heart-wrenching. Something clear.

The sound of Hazel's scream.

* * *

**District 8**

Not today.

Neliel Paisley would usually visit her mother's grave with her younger brother, Nylon. They would usually sit together on the grass that was as dead as the decayed bodies buried beneath. They would usually talk softly together as the wind whispered and as their hair rustled and as a car or two would drift by.

But not today. Today, Nel was all alone. It was just her on the yellow grass, just her talking softly as the wind whispered, just her hair rustling as cars drifted by. Being with her brother was nice, but being by herself at her mother's grave gave Nel a deeper sense of peace. Life could get so crazy sometimes. Sometimes, she needed a sanctuary, a place that didn't disturb her and allowed her mind to find tranquility.

"Sometimes I don't know why I bother to visit you."

Neliel's stare remained focused on the stone's engraving: _Beloved wife and mother._

"I don't remember your face. I don't remember your personality. I don't remember anything that we did together. Your smile, your voice, your smell. Nope. None of it comes to mind." She abruptly sighed. "It's as if you didn't even exist."

Nel traced her fingers delicately over a bright yellow daisy. She tucked it between her fingers and set it against the stone. "Here. Frankly, I don't know why Nylon gives you daisies. Maybe it's because it's the flower of death. Which is stupid, because that's depressing. Dad doesn't talk about you. He doesn't tell us what you were like. Or how you two met. Or fell in love. Or how you died. So, sorry if daisies aren't your thing. But you're just a rotting skeleton in the ground, so it's not as if you have any right to protest this. You're stuck with them."

She frowned. "It frustrates me. I want to know what you were like. I want to know how you two met. Dad doesn't let us see your damned photos. I love Dad, but it _frustrates _me how he keeps you a secret from us." Neliel could feel her fists tighten slowly, but she drew a quick breath and laid her palms flat on the ground. "I didn't bring Nylon with me today. I didn't want to. The days when I bring him, I usually just talk to him. Those days, I talk _about_ you. But today, I didn't want to talk to Nylon. I wanted to talk _to_ you. But it's funny. No, actually, it's not. Whenever I talk to you, I repeat the same things.

"But I know why. It's because I have the same frustrations, the same desire to know who you are. Well, were. But I talk about new things, too. Today I flipped off a Peacekeeper and ran away unscathed. And Nylon had a basketball tournament earlier. That was boring, but at least they won. Me and him also pulled some pranks on some bullies that go to his school. You should have seen the _looks_ on those suckers' faces. It was utterly hilarious. I was supposed to go to a meeting that would help me with college expenses, but I skipped out on it. I didn't feel like going.

"I always contemplate questioning Dad's friends about you. It's something I'm so tempted to do. I know that the slightest mention of you will cause him to have a serious mental breakdown. He becomes frantic. Harsh. Even abusive. So I decide against it. And even when no one mentions you, he has a tendency to lash out on us every once in awhile. I love him, but he's one of the reasons I'm not home often. Dad and I will occasionally bond over inventing things, though. Was he an inventor before or after you died?"

Nel stood up and tucked stray pieces of dark brown hair beneath her ears. She smiled gently at the small memorial that was both austere and pleasant. She noticed every crack and every stain and every chip that made up the stone. "You're an excellent listener," she said. "I thank you for that, Linsey. No one listens to me quite like you do."

In spite of the 75 years of new beginnings that came with Neo-Panem, District 8 hadn't changed all that much. Neliel knew that back during the Hunger Days, District 8 was relatively poor. It was better off than it was before; people could work less yet earn more. They weren't exactly rich and they weren't exactly poor. District 8 was still dominant in textile production, though other districts began to build a factory or two. And even after so many years, some things never change. There were still tenements (though they were cleaner) and smoky fumes emitted from the factories (though not as much).

"Were you talkin' to someone over there?" asked a crisp, masculine voice. Neliel flinched slightly and found herself standing beside Kail, a seventeen year-old boy with emerald green eyes and unruly black hair. Kail was one year older than her, but it made no difference. They had history ever since the two of them could walk.

"Yes I was," Nel said. "I was talking to…" Her eyes scanned the area. Her voice suddenly grew hushed as she leaned in closer. "My deceased mother."

Kail gave her a smile, not a happy-go-lucky smile nor a smile that gave false hope of everything going to turn out alright. No, it was a small smile, an almost sad smile that showed that Kail would always be there for her, whether she wanted him or not. It was genuine. Meaningful. Neliel strictly believed that you could know so much about a person by the smiles they share. And Kail believed this too.

Kail shook his head and drew a quick breath, causing Neliel to quirk an eyebrow. "So I heard you gave a Peacekeeper the finger. And I also heard you pulled a serious prank on those kids."

Nel chucked and then sighed contently. "Yes I did," she said, frowning slightly. "Who told you? Nylon?"

"Nylon."

A small pause. "The snitch."

She felt herself being taken aback as Kail gripped her left sleeve. Nel blushed (just a wee bit) as Kail pulled her closer and his eyes hardened into hers. "You could've gotten into a lot of trouble, y'know," Kail said slowly. Nel pulled away from his clutches, laughing.

"I know," she said wistfully, "but I _didn't. _Besides, that disdainful Peacekeeper got what was coming to him. And those kids deserved it _wholeheartedly._" Her voice became soft and sincere. "Oh look Kail, the moon is out early today. Isn't beautiful? The craters, the glow, the fact that it rotates on its axis around the same time that it revolves around the planet, making so that we only see one side of it all of time. The moon is just one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It's such a shame that it's moving further and further away every year…"

"Neliel." Nel stiffened at Kail's abrupt shift in tone. Kail crossed his arms adamantly and suckered in a deep breath. "I know when you're trying to dodge the subject. Look. You can't keep doing this. You can't keep-"

"Having fun? Doing what I want to do rather than what others _think_ I should do?" Nel crossed her arms, mimicking Kail in both posture and tone. Of course to her, it was all in good fun. She couldn't keep up the charade for long and soon gave Kail a cheeky grin. "Oh _Kail._ We've gone through this again and again, and you know we'll just keep running in circles and that all your efforts of changing my 'reckless' behavior will just end in futility."

Kail ushered her to follow him, and she did. He didn't speak and neither did she; the two of them just ambled along the sidewalk until Kail took a seat on a bench. Nel automatically sat right next to him, both of their gazes tracing up towards the moon. She wondered what he was really thinking. Kail knew Nel inside and out, but it wasn't exactly true when reversed. After a minute or two of dead silence, Kail finally spoke.

"I've been really patient with you lately," he began. "Don't talk. Don't get up. Just listen. It's hard for you to sit still and listen, but you have to. For me." Nel's heart fluttered and a pang of sadness struck at the sound of his voice. She glanced at him briefly and nodded. "Recently, you've been becoming _more_ careless and _more_ defiant than ever. It may seem like all fun and games now, but you won't be a kid forever. When you're an adult, you'll have to grow up."

"I _am_ grown up," Nel said firmly. Her brow furrowed.

"You'd be deceiving yourself if you honestly thought what you just said was true."

"You'd be deceiving yourself if you honestly thought I was going to magically change into a law-abiding goody two-shoes."

Kail sighed and stood up. Nel watched as he dug through his pants' pockets and pulled out a small card. "Take this."

"I don't want it."

Nel knew he didn't care whether she wanted it or not. Nel knew that Kail knew her so well that he would force her on her feet if he wanted her to do something for him. And as a matter of fact, Nel found herself on her feet at the influence of Kail's grip. He slipped the card into her hand and whispered in her ear.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?"

Kail turned around and walked away, and Nel watched until he became nothing more than a blurred dot against the sky. She glimpsed down at the card he handed her and sighed. It was for some sort of class that was supposed to help her with her "problems." It wasn't Neliel's fault that she hated being issued orders and being confined to rules and regulations. It was society's fault for having them exist since the dawn of civilization. But perhaps, _just this once,_ she should follow Kail's advice.

She would check out the class.

But that didn't mean she would have to listen.

* * *

**District 9**

His muscles expanded and contracted as sweat dripped from his brow. Kenny Robinson lifted the barbell as far up as he could before he brought it down closer to his chest. He let out a small sigh and decided to place the barbell back where it belonged. He sat upright and used his right wrist to wipe his forehead. Kenny reached for his glasses and slipped them on. Yeah, that should do it for the day.

Weightlifting was one of the only activities that helped clear his mind. Kenny was keen on doing things in general, but whenever his parents were out of the house, he figured he should be out too. His mom and dad strictly forbade him from tagging along on their whereabouts, so Kenny always had to make up his own. It was luck that made him stumble upon this gym. And it was the fact it could keep him sober for a solid half hour that made him stay.

Kenny thought he heard someone, but he quickly dismissed it.

"Ugh…I'm so….hungry," he said. His eyes casually darted to a corner of the room. Kenny shuddered as he felt an icy hand reach over his shoulder. He turned around, dazed. A blonde woman wearing sweatpants and a tank top wore a tight glare. She laid a hand to her hip. "Y-yeah?"

"Apparently you don't have any _ears,_" she said, her voice sneering. "As I've been _saying_ for the past ten seconds: _excuse_ me." She brushed past him, and Kenny felt himself stagger backwards. The blonde whipped her hair as she sat down, ready to use the barbell. Kenny scratched the back of his neck as his eyes lightened up. She was talking to him!

"Oh…okay miss, I'll move…" he said in a sequence of mumbles. He pressed his two forefingers together idly. Kenny glimpsed over at the blonde's face, smiling kindly.

She arched a brow. "What?"

"I…" He raised his voice just a tad bit higher. He smiled again and hoped she would be able to hear. "I…said oh okay…and that…and that…I'll move."

She muttered something under her breath, but Kenny couldn't comprehend it. "You already did, genius." The blonde shook her head, noticeably rolling her eyes in the process. Kenny stood there for a couple of seconds or so, unclear of what he should do. He didn't know if the lady was still talking to him or if she was done. Kenny patiently waited for her to say something. She stopped weightlifting for a moment to pause and stare at him.

"Go away!"

He nodded, teeth showing wildly as he grinned. His heart swelled with acceptance, and he happily abided to her orders. Kenny clutched his gut as it rumbled. Oh man, was he hungry. Now his mind floated back towards acquiring food and nothing else.

District 9, as Kenny was told, was same as it always was. It didn't matter who or what the grain was being made for; all that mattered was that it needed to be made. Panem always needed its bread bowl. It depended on it. District 9 wasn't exactly well-known amongst the other districts, but it was actually the unknown life support of Neo-Panem. District 11 may have been more "popular," but people needed breads and grains just as much as they needed fruits and vegetables.

As he found himself among the streets, Kenny caught a glimpse of Jesse Wilson, a redheaded and scraggy boy who was also Kenny's lifelong friend. An accident involving Jesse and a plow left Jesse with only stubs for legs. Jesse waved to Kenny from the comfort of his wheelchair. Rather than having Jesse put forth so much effort to move towards him, Kenny walked over to Jesse instead.

"Wanna grab a couple of drinks at our favorite pub?" Jesse asked as Kenny approached his side. "I'm thirsty."

Kenny shrugged. "Sure…I guess." Jesse leaned in closer as Kenny spoke. "I mean…I'm just…I'm just…more hungry than thirsty. Can we get something to…eat?"

"Why not get both?" Jesse said while raising an eyebrow. Kenny pondered this. He was really looking for a nice hot meal, but a few shots of whiskey started to sound mighty fine. "C'mon, Kenny. You're lookin' too sober for my tastes. And you love the smell and taste of hard liquor even more than _I_ do. So why don't we go for it?" That was true. And as more words came out of Jesse's mouth left and right, the more tempting the notion became.

"Well…okay."

Jesse grinned wildly. "Atta boy." He patted the side of his wheelchair. "Well?" Kenny shuffled behind Jesse and gripped the handles of the wheelchair. The two of them began to move along mild pedestrian traffic, Kenny pushing Jesse along as he walked. "Thanks man," Jesse said. Kenny simply smiled at Jesse's comment. "I don't know what I'd do without—spare change, lady?" When the woman passing by stuck up her chin, Jesse grumbled. "That lady has it out for me, I swear. Oh! Finally, we're here."

Kenny opened the door to the bar and wheeled Jesse in. A familiar crowd of the pub's usual cronies greeted the two in a mixture of small waves and simplistic nods. Kenny smiled softly at them as he took a seat on a barstool. He laid his right elbow on the countertop and sighed, staring off emptily into space. Several seconds passed before he felt a nudge at his side. Kenny jolted back to reality as Jesse gave him a sideways glance.

"Huh?" Kenny mumbled, blinking.

"You gonna order anything?" Jesse asked. He cocked his head in the direction of the female bartender, who was waiting patiently behind the counter.

"Oh…uh, sure." Kenny scratched the back of his head. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Hi, Marcia."

Marcia smiled as she swayed to her side. "Will it be the usual? Four shots of whiskey?"

"And maybe some bread, please."

She nodded to Kenny in a polite fashion. "Four shots of whiskey and a loaf of bread. Got it."

Jesse outstretched his arms and yawned. Kenny clutched his stomach as it rumbled. He sighed deeply and frowned. Marcia better be back with his whiskey soon. And she better not forget the bread. Kenny tapped his fingers rapidly on the countertop as he waited for Marcia's return. He heard the doors to the pub creak open, and Kenny instantly turned his head. His eyes widened as he caught sight of a dual-stunted couple with raggedly short hair. Kenny stared at the two in awe.

They were his parents.

"What are _you_ doing here?" asked his father. Kenny could tell his father had been drinking. Kenny smiled as his father's pinched, narrow face grimaced. His mother simply sighed at Kenny, who beamed at her brightly. He watched Marcia come back through the corner of his eye, a loaf of bread and whiskey in her hands. Marcia's face was stupefied as she slid the items towards Kenny.

"Why, if it isn't Matt and Kim Robinson," she said with a grin. There was some edginess to her voice. "What'll it be?"

"Get my son outta here," Matt said, snarling. "And then get me a glass of the cheapest drink you have."

Marcia folded her arms across her chest, biting her lip. "It's not in my power to kick people out who haven't done anything…"

"Do it!"

Before Kenny could protest any of this, Jesse wheeled up closely to Matt. "Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, how _good_ to see you," Jesse said. "Kenny's been a mighty good boy. No harm done by just havin' a few drinks here and there. C'mon you two and join us. It'll be fun." Jesse grinned one of his trademarked grins, but the faces of Matt and Kim Robinson remained hollow.

Matt Robinson shoved Jesse out of the way, picking up Kenny by the collar of his shirt.

"Matt," Kim Robinson began hesitantly, "don't do anything rash…"

But Kenny continued smiling. Even though his father's eyes were glaring into his own, Kenny was thankful. Even though his father's words roared and spat onto his face, Kenny was thankful. Even though his father's fist threatened him, causing Marcia and Jesse to react uneasily, Kenny was _thankful. _All eyes were on Kenny, and Kenny couldn't be more grateful for that. A single tear shed from his eye, a happy tear.

Marcia placed her arm in front of Kenny's face, blocking it from Matt Robinson's fist. Kenny placed his hand over her arm and gently pressed it down. "It's all right," Kenny said, but he knew Marcia wouldn't understand. No one would. Kenny treasured his father's gestures of love in every aspect possible. And he would abide to his wishes. "I'll go…it's okay."

Marcia raised a brow, but nodded shortly afterwards. Kenny watched as his father's fist lowered and as his mother sighed with relief. Jesse shrugged, and Kenny was left to the company of himself as he headed out the bar.

With nowhere else to go, Kenny decided to head home. It was only when he sat down near the kitchen table did he realize he _still_ didn't have anything to eat yet. Frustrated, Kenny rummaged through the refrigerator and settled for what little they had: many sticks of stringed cheese and a bag of carrots. He exhaled deeply, his stomach still unsatisfied. Kenny stood up, ready to raid the fridge once more. That's when he spotted it.

Across the table, Kenny saw a letter that was addressed to _him. _His lips pressed together in a thin smile. His heart thudded rapidly as he read the letter's contents. After rereading it a few times, Kenny finally understood.

These people were interested in him, and they probably had free food.

* * *

**District 10**

Luina Malory shifted her weight as she sat at her desk. Her left fist was rested against her cheek as a bubbly blonde girl nicknamed "Penny" was giving a lecture on her hair products. Luina knew that this "Get to Know You" project was meant for exactly what it was named. And although she didn't care for the people around her, Luina found them fascinating in their own right.

Once Penny was finished babbling about her hair, people whistled and clapped and cheered. Luina, on the contrary, wore a monotonously neutral face. Penny was obviously a vain person with trivial affairs, but Luina chose to remain silent on the matter. It was the easy thing to do.

"Luina Malory," Mrs. Wickler called out. Luina sighed and stared blankly into the endlessness of faces that stared back. She stood up, bringing nothing to the front of the classroom except for herself and the clothes on her back. Mrs. Wickler shook her head disapprovingly, and Luina noticed that Mrs. Wickler was already calculating her score.

Whatever. People didn't need to know who Luina Malory was. It was none of their business. Luina sucked in a breath and folded her arms. Her peers followed her movements with undivided attention.

Mrs. Wickler clicked her tongue. "You may begin."

"I'm Luina Malory. I'm a girl." Luina scratched the back of her neck. "I won't tell you my age, but you can make an educated guess on that one. And yeah. That's it." There were claps, but they were slow and few in numbers.

"Thank you Luina," said Mrs. Wickler curtly. Luina quietly made her way back to her seat, keeping her eyes focused on the back wall. As she plopped down into her seat, Luina felt a gentle poke on her left arm.

"Hey," said the girl next to her. What was her name? After all, Luina was in every single class with her since kindergarten. Hmm. Beau! Yes, that was it.

Luina mumbled under her breath and glanced at Beau. "Yes?"

"How come you never do these things?" Beau asked quietly.

"I don't want to," said Luina evenly.

Beau's forehead wrinkled slightly, as if in thought. Beau turned around to glance at her own project: a poster with pictures of her and her family. Even though Beau happened to be in a class with Luina _every single year,_ Luina hardly remembered what Beau had said during the "icebreaker" activities of past years. Beau stared at Luina, her mouth in a slight frown.

"You're afraid of what other people think of you," Beau said softly.

"Please," Luina said, her voice hushed. Luina's eyes darted to her desk. "You don't know me."

"Oh I think it I know a little bit," Beau pointed out matter-of-factly. She reclined nonchalantly in her chair, giving Luina a half-smug smile. "We've been in the same class since we started school. I mean…I was bound to notice you eventually, even if you were just that quiet kid in the corner. You never talked. Why?"

"Because I didn't need to."

"Because you didn't _want_ to," Beau said perceptibly. "You didn't want to be judged by the others, who all ready had their groups of friends."

After that, Luina had nothing to say. She mentally cursed herself for not having anything to say, because that would mean Beau thought she won, and Luina did _not_ want to give Beau the impression that she had won, because she hadn't. Beau lost. She didn't know anything about Luina, no matter what she liked to believe. And Luina didn't want to say anything anyways. That would only carry on the conversation.

Mrs. Wickler continued to bombard the class with presentations. It was one tedious performance after the other, one other face that Luina would have to endure for the rest of the year. She felt herself falling asleep towards the end, but when Beau's name was called, Luina couldn't help but try to listen. She only caught a few things about Beau here and there, but it was better than what she got out of the other students. Finally the school bell rung, freeing Luina from her mandatory death trap.

As Luina described it, District 10 was made for livestock, and if the time ever came for it to be demolished, it would be demolished as such. There wasn't anything to marvel at. It was that simple, and that boring.

Her home had merely one acre of land, but that was all that her family needed. It was better than living near the slaughterhouses, after all. A couple dozen sheep roamed within their property, grazing on grass and lying out in the sun. Luina's step-siblings were out tending to them. Chazz Banner, who was one year younger than Luina, was running around with his favorite sheep, Pebb. Myron Banner, age twelve, was off to the side, silently shearing sheep. And Tamia, Luina figured, was out with her friends. Tamia Banner was one of those "mature" teenagers, who were, in reality, just held one of those I'm-older-therefore-I'm-better attitudes.

Luina didn't care for any of them, but all her mother asked of her was to stomach them. Her mother was the only person Luina truly could accept. Luina had the utmost respect for Diantha Malory, and she was the single human on the planet whom Luina demonstrated any amount of respect to.

As Luina opened the door, her relaxed face morphed into a stoic expression. Her entire body stiffened for a split second, but Luina forced herself to move impassively. It took every fiber in her body not to glare or scream or burst into tears. No, never mind. It didn't. It was easy, effortless. It was so _easy_ to maintain a calm façade. Because she _was_ calm. Because emotions and "caring" was fruitless and served no purpose. Luina didn't care. She. Did. Not. Care…

"It's been so long since I've seen you." Her father's voice was like a train screeching to a rusty stop.

Luina didn't want to look at his face, so she stared at a door at the end of the hall. "Yes, Zin," she said, almost quietly. "It has."

"Why don't you join me and your mother?" her father asked in such a good-natured tone that it made Luina want to throw up. "We're having lamb chops."

"Why is he here?" Luina asked her mother, disregarding her father as bitterness seeped out from her forced composure. All of the respect Luina had for her mother was being brutally tested at the very presence of Zin Malory in her home. Out of all the people she knew, Luina knew Diantha best. Why would for a _single second_ would her mother even _consider_ letting Zin back into their home? It was unfathomable…it was…_disgusting._

Luina listened as her mother stood up from her chair, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "It's something long and complicated, Luina. In no way are we getting back together. But I was thinking…that it's time to put our differences aside and…well, your father wants to be a part of our lives again."

"He doesn't have that luxury," Luina said icily. "He needs to leave. Now."

There was a lengthy pause, and an abrupt stillness roamed over their heads. Her mother spoke, causing Luina to flinch slightly at the interrupted silence. "Zin," she began, "Luina and I have a lot to discuss. I think it'd be best if you leave for now. You can come back tomorrow if you'd like."

Luina closed her eyes as she heard her father get up. She refused to open them until he left. His heavy footsteps smacked against the wooden floor, causing Luina's brow to crinkle. The front door creaked open, but she could tell that Zin hadn't stepped out yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then, Diantha." Nope, he wasn't gone yet. "And I'll see you tomorrow too, Luina."

She cringed. But at last, the door snapped shut, and Luina could open her eyes once more. She found her mother looking upon her hopefully, but Luina shook her head.

"How could you?" Luina asked quietly, doing everything in her power not to show tears, to show vulnerability. Her mother's face grew solemn, and she urged for the two of them to sit down. "Does your husband know of this?" (Luina didn't care for her stepfather either, but she cared about her mother's integrity).

"Of course he does," Diantha said. "Look, Luina. This isn't for me. I'm done with Zin. I'm over him. We've made up. We're on civil terms. But I'm doing this for you. I want you to have a healthy relationship with your father…"

"I don't want it. I don't need it."

"Give him a chance."

Luina almost chuckled resentfully. _Almost. _"He doesn't deserve one."

Her mother exhaled, rubbing her temples pensively. Luina sighed too, slacking in her chair. Her eyes wandered off to the half-eaten lamb chops on the table and the stack of envelopes off to the side. She flipped through their mail in indifference, but took particular interest to the letter that was addressed to her. The envelope was all ready open. Luina glimpsed at her mother with a blank expression.

"You read my mail?"

Diantha shrugged. "You never get any. I was curious," she said in defense.

Luina's eyes skimmed through the letter. She shook her head disapprovingly at the artificiality of the writer's tone. This was obviously just a scam to pocket her family's money. And on such short notice, too. (Tomorrow at twelve, _really?_) It was a foolish little letter and it would be foolish to go. But wait. She had an idea.

"You never asked if I wanted to go," Luina said.

"I was going to," her mother said, "but then I decided I'd rather have you spend time with your father."

"I'll go."

Diantha raised a brow. "Tomorrow, I want you to stay here," she said. "Spend some time with Zin. It'll be good for you."

"I've made up my mind," Luina said in a voice that was neither harsh nor kind. She stood up and grabbed the letter. Her mother continued to speak about Zin, but Luina didn't want to hear it. She blocked out her mother's voice. Luina wouldn't normally disrespect Diantha like this, but this was a special circumstance that Luina never once imagined would happen. "I'm going, Mom. There's nothing you can do to change my mind."

She knew her mother would be disappointed. But Luina _couldn't_ do it, even for her. It wasn't as if she wanted to do these things to her mother. No. Luina reassured herself it wasn't her own wrongdoing. It was her mother's fault for going down this road, for trying to bring back Zin Malory into their lives.

Of course, Luina wasn't _actually_ going to go to the meeting; that was just an alibi. Or maybe she would.

Just to kill some time.

* * *

**District 11**

Drops of sweat trickled from the back of his dark neck. He reached over and scratched his neck, his fingertips brushing against his black, unkempt hair. As a whistle chimed throughout the fields, he glanced up at the sky. The sun was now positioned high in the sky, at its peak. Fortunately for Ivan Howl, he had the pleasure of waking up early and working at the crack of dawn, instead of in the backbreaking heat that began at noon.

As if it even mattered. The minute his shift was over, he had somewhere else to go, other work to do. Work was an endless cycle, a rut that continued on and on so that he and his family could live comfortably. Ivan simply washed his hands before leaving the fields, heading inwards towards the main town.

"Ivan, hey," said his buddy, Jeremiah Dodge. "Thank goodness we got the day off from school today. Gives us time to relax. Where are you headed off to now?"

Ivan glanced at Jeremiah with a firm stare. "To follow orders and make ends meet, with a little extra to hopefully get out of this hellhole one day." Jeremiah may have had the day off today, but a day off of school to Ivan was just an extension on fieldwork and a break from schoolwork.

District 11 was all Ivan ever knew. He only knew the rows and rows of crops and the acres and acres of land. He only knew the whistle that alerted one shift's end and another's beginning. He only knew of the Hunger Days that leeched off of the people of District 11, and that their end allowed the people to live in peace. He only knew of his family, and of Jeremiah.

Ivan began walking on the irregularly paved road ahead of him. Jeremiah ambled alongside him, his face keeping to the ground. "It's not a hellhole, Ivan," Jeremiah said, almost meekly. "Lots of good people, decent people. Lots of food. Lots of scenery, too. It's nice."

"Oh _yes,_" said Ivan as he rolled his eyes. "It's nice to see the same people every day doing the same, monotonous tasks. It's nice to slave over acres of crops, most of which go out to feed _other people._ It's nice to see nothing but fields, fields, and more fields. Yep. District 11 has it all."

Jeremiah wrinkled his brow and shook his head. He breathed loosely. "I know how you feel about this place," he said. "I know that you want…more. That _this_ isn't good enough. But Ivan, look at what we have. It isn't much, but, chances are, this is what we'll always have. You gotta be happy with what you have. Appreciate the little things, Ivan. Otherwise, you'll just end up being miserable."

Ivan knew Jeremiah was a simple-minded guy with simple-minded goals, and Jeremiah knew that too. What Jeremiah said did have some merit, but only to those who were content with mediocrity. Ivan didn't want that. "Because it's always better to accept defeat than to strive for something better, right, Jeremiah?" Ivan said while glimpsing at Jeremiah's face. Ivan sighed. "We've had this discussion before. You know what I want out of life."

"I know," said Jeremiah in sincerity. "I'm not saying don't aim for something better. All I'm saying is you've gotta be realistic about it." There was a pause. Jeremiah altered his tone. "Anyways, you never said in particular where you were going."

Ivan shrugged. "If you continue to follow me, I suppose you'll find out."

Jeremiah grinned, but only slightly.

Ivan ended up in the urban core of District 11, practically the only place that wasn't covered with fields. It was the busiest area of all, filled with those who were doing their shopping, going to school, or those who were merely sick of the rural landscape. Ivan walked up to a small home, where the owner, Mr. Bennett, would have him do various odd jobs all over the place. It was tiresome, but at least it wasn't tedious.

Once work was said and done, Ivan took the bus in order to get home. His home was tediously comfortable, seeing as that it was the only house he ever lived in. At the doorsteps was his sister Ginevra. She stopped her idle frolicking to take a seat on the steps. "Hi, Ivan," she said, waving to him cheerfully. Ivan smiled politely at his sister. "You know, I could help you in the fields if you'd let me."

"I couldn't let you do that," Ivan said. He walked up the stairs and stood calmly by the door.

"Why?"

"Well, take a look at yourself," Ivan said. "Do the fields really want a ten-year old girl toiling to them, especially since they have older and stronger workers?"

Ginevra bit her lip and folded her arms defiantly across her chest. "I don't care what the fields want," she said. Ginevra stuck up her chin. "The fields could use a girl like me to help with things only a girl like me could do. Then we could have more money. Don't you want more money, Ivan?"

Ivan smiled lightly at Ginevra. "I do," he said, "but you need to focus on school. Mom wouldn't want you to do badly in school just to earn some extra money."

"Screw that," she said, and by now, Ginevra was standing up with her back against the outdoor paneling. "I could always work at night. Or in the early mornings…with you! That way I get both. School and work. Piece of cake. You do that and you pass your classes with flying colors. I can do that too."

"I don't think so." And he went inside.

Ginevra followed him, continuously asking Ivan why she couldn't be a harvester just like him. Ivan reasoned with her, but of course, Ginevra couldn't be reasoned with. In many ways, Ivan saw himself in her. She was determined. She wanted more. On the rare occasions in which he escorted to her to school, he watched as she glanced upon more fortunate children with envy. Those who came with new clothes every month. Those who bragged about their toys. Ivan had done the same.

Even now, Ivan would look upon white-collar workers with a twinge of jealously as they wore their fancy shirts and shiny shoes.

"Go along," Ivan told Ginevra. "Play with Hobb or Blys. I have to calculate my funds."

Ginevra nodded; she knew Ivan well enough to know when it was time to leave him alone. Ivan closed the door to his room and took a moment to collapse on his bed. It was a long day. As always. He sat upright and removed the cash that was stuffed inside his pockets. Harvesters were paid by the week, but work for Mr. Bennett was paid by the day. Ivan counted up the money he earned today.

Ten percent. Ivan looked upon the small pile of bills that were to be added to his personal savings. _Ten percent._ It wasn't much, but it would have to do. He went to his nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. Ivan's eyes widened as his fists clenched together tightly.

His savings. They were gone.

"Ginevra." His cold voice echoed throughout the house. The door to his room creaked, and Ginevra was standing halfway inside his room. "Do you know who stole my money?" Ivan asked her, his voice solemn.

"No Ivan," she said slowly. She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. "But someone stole the earrings Dad gave me. They're gone."

The door swung outwards. Their mother, Alyss, was standing with a slight hunch and a worried expression plastered onto her face. "Ivan, I think we've been robbed," she said, her voice shaking. "I don't know when…I…perhaps it was when you were off at the fields and I was taking the kids out to the park. My necklace. It's gone. Did they…?" She hovered towards Ivan and peered into his empty drawer. "They did…didn't they? I'm sorry, Ivan. I'm going to call the Peacekeepers. Maybe they can find out who did this…"

"Everyone go," Ivan said. No one hesitated to follow his wishes. As quick as Ivan spoke, they all left. He was left to stare at an empty drawer that was wiped of its contents. His savings weren't much, but he had been accumulating them ever since his father died. Now, it was four years of hard work wasted. Four years of earnings thrown away. All Ivan wanted was to leave this place. To become _something_ while still managing to support his family. And now he was back to square one.

There was a knock at the door. "Ivan," Alyss said gently, "the phone's for you."

Ivan reluctantly stood up and went to the kitchen. The phone was lying on the counter. He sighed and placed it to his ear. "This is Ivan Howl speaking."

"Hello, Ivan," said a female voice on the other end of the line, "I'm with a special department that deals with helping families in financial crises. Your mother spoke with the Peacekeepers and they recommended for her to call us. We understand your situation. How would you like a job? A job that pays better than working in the fields?"

Ivan lifted a cautious brow. "By how much? And what job?"

"Two times as much as your weekly earnings. And you'll start off managing a small business in the middle of the District. We've been told you're interested in business. How does that sound?"

Ivan didn't speak, and for awhile, there was no exchange of words between Ivan and this mysterious woman.

The woman spoke again, "It's perfectly fine if you don't want the job, Ivan. I know this seems a bit, well, out of the blue. But no one is forcing you. Just think about it. If you'd like the job, come to our offices at twelve tomorrow. We can meet in person. I left the address of our facilities with your mother. I hope to see you there."

It seemed suspicious, too good to be true. Nothing was that simple…it couldn't be. How could life be handed to him on a silver platter when he had to work so diligently all of his life? And wasn't it just oddly convenient that this was happening right after his savings were taken away?

But it was a golden opportunity. His big chance. He could meet new people, influential people. He could rise through ranks instead of working in a stagnant job. Perhaps this was in his best interest.

Perhaps this was his ticket out of the hellhole known as District 11.

* * *

**District 12**

_It's happening again._

Those were the first words that popped into her mind as bitter flames cracked directly in front her, dancing in vivid red light. Novette Partridge stumbled backwards, her mouth ajar. She sat in place, stiffened by the heat and smoke and the sirens buzzing off in the distance. Novette slowly began to inch away from the fire. Her mind began to replay screams, screams that buzzed into her ears in a nonstop loop.

"Nova, don't just _sit_ there," said her older brother, Fletcher. Novette trembled as his voice interrupted her thoughts. She gasped lightly as his sturdy arms wrapped around her thin body, lifting her into the air. "You're safe with me."

The flames grew distant as Fletcher ran. Nova gripped his arm as she was shaken by his heavy steps. The rest of her family was waiting as Fletcher set her down outside. Her mother flocked to her with teary eyes. Nova smiled as she received a firm embrace accompanied by equally firm kisses.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore," her mother said.

"I wasn't scared," Novette whispered. Visions of the sizzling fire flashed inside her brain. She could hear its hisses, smell its smoke. Nova pulled away from her mother and gave her a reassuring smile. "Honest."

A specific division of Peacekeepers doused the fire. Fortunately for Nova and her family, only the kitchen area was badly scathed. The rest of the house was intact, but it would be awhile until the smoke cleared. It didn't make a difference to Novette. Saturday School was going to start in an hour, so by the time she would get out, Nova figured the smoke would be gone. She idly browsed shops in the main square until school started, humming to herself and skipping once the bell rang.

"I heard your house caught on fire again." Novette turned around and crashed into the arms of Felicity, her one and only best friend. "Are you okay? I mean…I know no one was hurt, but it must've been pretty frightening."

Nova finished hugging Felicity and grinned. She shook her head. "It was nothing really," she said. Felicity arched an eyebrow and stared at Novette with skeptical eyes. "_Gosh, _Felicity. Don't give me that look. Oh look! There's a squirrel by the steps of the entrance." Nova dragged Felicity by the hand as she rushed over to the squirrel. The squirrel bobbed its head before running away, causing Novette to giggle.

"You can tell me anything, Nova," Felicity said quietly. Felicity sat down, hugging her knees beside the steps of the school. She watched as their peers passed by. Novette called out and waved to her classmates, but none of them bothered to acknowledge her presence. Nova shrugged and sat down by Felicity.

"Well," Novette began, "it was a _little_ scary." Felicity frowned. "Okay okay. It was _really_ scary. I mean, _really_ scary. I froze when I saw the fire. I don't know what came over me. I know it wasn't as bad as the one seven years ago. But I just…it just brought back the same feelings and memories." Novette crossed her legs and watched as a bird landed on a tree. She wondered about the bird's home life and its family. She wondered if the bird had always lived in District 12, or if it had traveled across Neo-Panem in some epic journey.

Nova sighed cheerfully. "That bird…it's a mockingjay, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Felicity said softly, "it is."

"I want one for a pet." Novette stood up. She suddenly twirled, moving so swiftly that her dress made a nearly perfect circle. "Don't you think they'd make marvelous pets? I could dress one up. Or perhaps we could sing together! Mockingjays sing, don't they?

Felicity laughed. "They sure do."

Nothing out of the ordinary occurred during Saturday School. There was one exception, however. A couple of students actually _talked_ to Novette during lunch. She didn't know their names, but she knew their faces. As she had anticipated, they simply were curious about the fire. Novette calmly responded to their questions, but after that, her peers went on their merry way. Nova didn't mind, though. She was used to people leaving her when she was mid-sentence. (But she hoped they would've stayed a tad bit longer. She enjoyed the art of conversation).

Once school was over, Nova gasped. "Fletcher?" she asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?" Nova spread a cheesy grin and ran to her older brother, who caught her in his arms and spun her around effortlessly. Nova giggled and clapped her hands together, imagining that she was riding one of those "merry-go-rounds" she had seen on television. "I was just about to walk home with Felicity. What's up?"

Fletcher's soft face suddenly hardened. Nova blinked in curiosity. "It's time for your monthly check-up," he said. He outstretched his hand. "Come on, Nova. Mom and Dad will meet us there."

Novette happily skipped behind her older brother as she clasped his hand. "See you later, Felicity." Out of the corner of her eye, Novette saw Felicity give her two thumbs up. Novette winked at her, returning the favor with a thumbs-up of her own.

Nova figured that District 12 of today was different from what it previously had been. Although she didn't know much of its history, she knew that there was one unchanging fact about District 12: mining. Novette didn't know many people, but of the ones she did know, at least one member of their family was a miner.

The people at the hospital were always so nice to her. They were the only ones who would actually say hi to her, other than Felicity. Upon entering the well-lit building, Nova was greeted with the smiles and bright-lit faces that belonged to the staff. She stopped to blow each of them kisses, throwing in a curtsy here and there. She felt Fletcher tug at her arm.

"Come back to me," he said. "They're waiting for you."

Novette placed a hand to her hips and gave him a noticeably dramatic sigh. "Oh, alright." Her face contorted into a pout. She poked Fletcher, who looked at her and shook his head. But he couldn't fool Nova. She noticed, in spite of how minute it was, the upturn of his lips that resulted from her amusing expression. Novette attempted to tickle him, but Fletcher reacted quickly, causing it to backfire on her. She went into a hysterical fit of giggles that rang throughout the hospital's halls.

Fletcher's hand clasped over her mouth. "Shh, not so loud," he said gently. Nova made her tongue scrape against his skin, forcing Fletcher to retract his hand. Fletcher's eyes narrowed at her as he wiped the sweaty hand against his pants. Nova snorted. This time, however, Fletcher's eyes remained narrowed. "Be serious, Nova, alright? They're waiting for you already."

"It's your fault for tickling me back," she stated matter-of-factly. A smug grin smacked Novette right in the face, which resulted in Fletcher rolling his eyes. Nova gasped as he yanked her arm tightly. Her legs scrambled one after the other as her older brother dragged her across the hospital. She didn't resist, however, and soon the two found themselves face-to-face with their parents. Novette gave each of them a heartfelt embrace.

She heard the clicking of heels against the polished floor. Nova scrunched her brow together. How odd. She didn't remember Yolanda Bakers to be the type to wear heels. Usually Yolanda would be sporting something more comfy, like moccasins. In fact, Yolanda would wear her moccasins every time she had an appointment with Nova. Just for her. That was one thing Novette loved about her psychiatrist. Yolanda appreciated the little things.

"Hello, I'm Carrie Staus and I'll be filling in for Yolanda today."

Carrie looked nothing like Yolanda. She had platinum blonde hair, with a face that was caked in makeup. Nova felt her hand instinctively reach for Fletcher's. Carrie seemed to notice this, and bent down to meet Nova eye-to eye. "Yolanda is sick right now, Novette. But I'm sure we'll get along. I promise." Carrie smiled at her warmly. Novette's grip on Fletcher loosened.

"Maybe we should reschedule until Yolanda feels better…" said Nova's mother. "I don't know about this. Yolanda's been working with Nova for so many years. It doesn't feel right."

"I don't mind," Nova said. Carrie grinned.

"Great!" said Carrie as she stood up. "Well, Nova. Follow me and we can begin our session."

Novette's arms wrapped around her mother. She planted a kiss on her mother's cheek. "I'll see you in a couple of hours," Novette said, her voice gentle yet firm. She enveloped her mother tightly, and she was pleased when her mother squeezed her back. Nova proceeded to embrace her father, then Fletcher. Carrie gestured for Nova to follow her using a simple flick of her wrist. Nova waved at her family before leaving.

Many rooms adorned the hallways, each comprised of the same metal handles, the same faded doors. The only thing about each room that distinguished it from the next was the system of numbers embedded above each doorway. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20—wait. Nova tugged at Carrie's sleeve. "We just passed my room," she said. Carrie simply looked down at her and smiled. Then she continued walking. Nova ran to catch up to her, perplexed. "We just passed my room," she repeated, not quite sure if Carrie had heard her.

"They've assigned you to a different room since Yolanda isn't here," Carrie explained. "Is that okay?"

It seemed peculiar, but Nova nodded silently. She continued to walk beside Carrie, raising a brow once they passed by the cafeteria. There were no more rooms beyond that point, not any that Nova knew of. She tightened her brow in thought.

"Maybe we should use Yolanda's room," Novette said slowly. She stopped in her tracks. Carrie whipped around once she noticed Novette was behind her.

"Just come, Nova," she said adamantly. "I don't bite. I promise." Nova shook her head furiously, tangling her curly-black hair.

Carrie's soft, warm expression morphed into stone. "Let's _go,_ Nova," and she stomped towards her, grasping Nova's wrist in a taut manner. Nova squirmed, attempting to shake loose from Carrie's grip. Carrie hissed under her breath and began walking, heel after heel as she forcefully lead Novette further back.

Before Nova had the chance to scream, an electrifying shock blacked her out.

* * *

**District 13**

The sky was lined with only a few billowing clouds, allowing the pavement to soak in the endless rays of the sun. The schoolyard's turf was green, a heavenly, fresh-smelling green home to ladybugs and ants. _How could anyone live underground? _thought Charles Jorden. _How could anyone miss out on the outside world?_ Charles sat on a tree stump, a feature that was the center of the playground ever since he started school. A wrinkled paper bag was placed on his lap, and he fumbled through its contents: a sandwich, a milk carton, an apple, and a candy bar.

Ah, the usual. He drank the milk first and then bit into the apple. The apple tasted particularly sour, so he put it back.

A girl around his age with blonde hair approached him: Maggie Winters. Aka "Mooching Miss Maggie." Charles glanced up as he pulled out his sandwich to look upon her thoughtfully. He knew what she wanted before she had to ask of it. She wanted his candy bar; same as yesterday and the day before and the day before. But Charles didn't want to let her see into his irritation. He just smiled at Maggie with innocent eyes that caused her cheeks to flush faintly.

"Can I please have your candy bar, Charlie?" she asked in her nauseatingly pleasant voice. Her hand reached for her arm, and she sighed. "I know I ask you for it _every_ day, but I just get _so_ hungry. My parents don't really pack me much food in my lunch."

His parents didn't pack him much, either. They had to work constantly just to support him and his large family. But Charlie knew that Maggie's tongue was just rolling out sweet lies. He had happened upon it by accident, seeing that Maggie Winters had more than enough candies in her lunchtime meals. She was a vicious rat, a dangerous one. However, Maggie Winters was the daughter of the principal, and Charles knew she could pull some strings to get what she wanted.

So it was in his best interest to give the girl what she wanted so that she could play nice and leave him alone.

"Of course you can, Miss Maggie," Charlie said in a similarly pleasant tone. His kind façade did not waver as his hand dug into his lunch bag, retrieving the candy bar. He handed it to Maggie with utmost courtesy. "Have a fine day."

Maggie's lip formed into a smile as she performed a dainty curtsy. "Thank you!" she giggled, and she ran off to be with her frivolous little friends.

Once she was nothing more than a dot against the horizon, Charles rolled his eyes. He continued to eat his sandwich until there was nothing left but the crust. A bird flapped its wings nearby, landing on the grass and jerking its head in random directions. Charlie took the crusty remains of his sandwich and tossed it at the bird. The creature was quite content with what it got, and a couple more birds flocked to Charles for more food.

"Sorry fellas," he said as she stood up. "That's all I have left."

"Charlie, over here!" Charles spun around to find a group of boys beckoning to him, waving casually while holding a ball. Ricky Sloan, the one who had called him over, wore a hearty grin. "Come over here," Ricky called out, his voice stretching across the schoolyard. Charlie shrugged his shoulders. He waltzed over to the crowd, tossing out the leftovers from his lunch as he made his way there.

"What's up?" asked Charlie as he picked at his teeth.

"Dodge ball," said Ricky coolly. "But first, can I ask you something?"

Charles shrugged. "You already did." The circle of boys behind Ricky snickered quietly amongst themselves. Ricky shot a sideways glare at his peers before shifting his attention back to Charlie.

"Ha ha," Ricky said with a slight a frown. "Anyways, _Charles,_ I'm having a party tomorrow at my house. It's at 3:30. You should come. There will be nachos and games. Prizes will be given out too. And we could swim at the lake later. Sound fun?" (No, not really. He had been to one of Ricky's district-famous parties, and it wasn't exactly his idea of "fun." And the idea of swimming at the lake nearly sent shivers down his spine).

"What kind of prizes will be there?" Charlie asked while feigning curiosity.

"Oh we've got some good ones," Ricky said airily. Ricky shrugged. "Water guns, voodoo dolls, small electronic games…you know, cool stuff."

Charlie smiled. The idea of taking home miscellaneous items to use for personal amusement sounded rather appealing. He stretched out his right hand and spat on it. Rick did the same. "I'll be there," Charlie said, and they shook.

The rest of the lunch period was filled with dodge ball, which Charles didn't mind. He was particularly agile in dodging whatever came his way, and even better at throwing things back. Sometimes he would deftly hide behind a peer or duck, causing the ball to hit them and not himself. The best part was, Charlie moved too fast for anyone to even tell. School finished up quickly after that, and some of Charlie's classmates asked if he wanted to continue their little game. He declined, however, and headed home instead.

Imagine screaming. Imagine children bouncing off the walls and dancing. Imagine crying. Imagine children fighting over the television remote, throwing assorted objects into the air, sprinting to get the last piece of chocolate. Imagine a stressed-out mother sitting on the couch with an equally stressed-out father as they glance at each other and wonder how in the world their kids ended up being so crazy.

That was Charlie's home. And he loved every bit of it.

"Why did you give Mooching Maggie your candy bar at lunch?" asked Lirick, one of Charlie's brothers. Lirick was twelve, only behind Charlie by one year. His other younger brothers, Corin and James sneaked behind Lirick and tackled him from behind.

"I think she's sweet," Charlie responded in a nonchalant manner. He chuckled when Lirick fell to the floor; Corin and James piled on top of him like a house of cards that collapsed on itself. Corin slugged James in the shoulder, causing James to hit him back with twice the force. Charlie swore he heard Lirick mutter "Yeah, right," but it was too faint for him to tell.

Suddenly, Odette and Jenna ran past the group of boys, holding up dolls with half-shaved heads high into the air. Charlie's youngest sister, Lorelei, tripped over the three boys. Her mouth was wide open and tears poured out of her cheeks. "They _took_ my dolls!" Lorelei said as she wiped her runny nose. "Charlieeeee. Make them give it back!"

"Don't be so sour," Odette said. Odette placed a hand over her mouth, as if she was yawning. "_Charlie,_ tell Lorelei that she's just being a crybaby. We just want to finish cutting the hair off the dolls. It's fun."

Charles crossed his arms. "She's only five you guys," he said. "Just give her the dolls, Odette. You too, Jenna."

Odette and Jenna both looked at each other, sighing. "Okay Lorelei," said Jenna, "here." The two girls tossed Lorelei her dolls, causing Lorelei's tears and pouting expression to instantaneously disappear. Lorelei was back to her bubbly self, hugging the dolls and running to sit by their mother and father.

"I heard you got invited to Ricky Sloan's party tomorrow," Odette said. Her lips parted into a smile. "Can I come with you?" Charlie wouldn't mind having Odette tag along; although she was being particularly bratty to Lorelei this evening, Odette was a fun-loving daredevil. But Charles was aware of Ricky Sloan's "No Girls Allowed" policy at his parties. It wasn't that Ricky's parents minded; Ricky himself was merely condescendingly sexist.

"_Wait,_" said Lirick. "Ricky _Sloan_ invited you to his party? Again?" Charles nodded. "How come he never invites me to any of his parties?" Lirick attempted to wriggle out from under the pile, but it was futile. "Man. You're so lucky, Charlie." (Not really. But what could he say?)

"I guess," Charles said, shrugging. He didn't want to let on that he thought Ricky Sloan to be quite boring. (Ricky's reputation at school was just as important as Mooching Miss Maggie, after all, so it was best to just make nice). "Anyways, are you two just going to continue lying down on Lirick? Or are we going to play something?"

James and Corin rolled off of Lirick, the latter of whom had trouble getting up. Lirick slowly pushed himself off the ground, dusting himself once he managed to stand up. The four boys exchanged mischievous grins. Corin reached for a ball that was off to the side while James grabbed an old pillow. Lirick and Charlie preferred to battle the "traditional" and "noble" way: with their bare hands.

"You better not play in the kitchen," said their father as he reclined on the sofa.

"We won't!" Charlie said, though he had a feeling that what he said was going to become a lie.

"By the way, Charlie," said his mother, "there's some mail for you in the kitchen. I don't know what it is, but check it out before you start roughhousing."

Charlie briefly glanced at his brothers and headed for the kitchen, deciding to just do what his mother told him. The envelope was rather extravagant; Charlie almost (key wording being almost) felt like he wasn't worthy enough to open it. Of course, he tore right through the envelope, only making sure not to rip the letter inside. His eyes loosely scanned the paper, but as his brothers crowded behind him, Charles began to read it with more precision.

He reread the message on the letter, just to be sure.

* * *

**A/N** This concludes the character intros. I hope you enjoyed it! I hope I gave characters most of the justice that they deserve. Some were harder to write than others, but overall, the point of these was not just to give you insight into the characters. They were to show you that they are, above all, human beings living human lives. The thing about many other Games is that you see how they are during Reapings, which isn't exactly a fair insight into their normal interactions.

There is still much more to reveal about all of these characters. As for their physical appearances, you'll get them later on. Out of these seven, which one is your favorite so far? Which one of these seven do you think has the highest chance of winning?

**Pertaining to nicknames: **should I continue to alternate between formal names and nicknames, or should I just stick to nicknames completely? I have no clue how I should handle it, so let me know what you think is best.

There's also a poll on my profile, go vote!


	4. Don't Be Shy and Give It a Try

**A/N** I thank everyone for their support! I also thank you for your patience, because writing these chapters take forever. Your reviews are helpful, and in this chapter, I've been working on my dialogue in hopes that it doesn't sound formal. (Note that Snow speaks formally, but she should in my opinion, because she's a public speaker and must make an impression on her audience).

**Pertaining to nicknames:** I've decided to only keep the nicknames of Neliel and Charles. From now on, they will simply be referred to as Nel and Charlie respectively, and their formal names will simply be used in special circumstances.

As a reminder, you should read _Semper Fi_ by der kapitan.

* * *

**The Process of Elimination**

"_Freedom has a way of destroying things."_ -Scott Westerfeld, _Uglies_ Series

Chapter 3:  
Don't Be Shy and Give It a Try

* * *

The long, black limousine slowed to a gentle stop. As Kitty's focus lingered outside the window, she saw it. It was vast. It was grand. It was unbelievable.

A dome. A silver, crystal-like dome that was the shining symbol of everything luxurious in the Neo-Capitol. The panels were incredibly reflective, the kind one could see out when inside but not inside when out. Rays of the setting sun struck against the glossy panels, causing the dome to truly _become_ the shining symbol it was meant to be. Kitty could feel her mouth gaping slightly, her gaze not faltering in the least. Her ability to see couldn't reach the top.

She twirled a strand of her curly, cyan-colored hair as the doors clicked, unlocking. She inhaled for a moment, taking in the stillness of the surrounding area. Besides the dome, there was nothing but a flat landscape, a landscape that made up most of the Neo-Capitol. The limousine had escorted Kitty away from Capitol City, far enough so that the boisterous sounds emitted from the upper-class were diminished, but close enough that her eyes could detect the skyscrapers glowing in the now night-fallen sky. The chauffer's shadowy figured loomed outside the door, and Kitty faintly quivered at his sudden presence.

"We're here." His voice was quiet yet gruff.

Kitty's lips pressed together thinly, and she nodded. "Thanks," she said, almost in a murmur. She tugged at her dress, which was soft and smooth. Her skin soaked in the lukewarm heat of the air. Kitty stepped forward, hearing the door shut behind her. The chauffer locked the door to the limousine, and soon he was walking beside her, his face firmly fixed ahead.

"Follow me."

Kitty watched him move ahead of her. She did her best not to swallow. "Of course."

With night bestowed upon the citizens of the Capitol, the dome was no longer gleaming in sunlight. Kitty continued to shuffle along the rocky landscape until the smooth walls of the dome were near her touch. Guards were standing to the side of the door, eyeing Kitty cautiously. She didn't flinch; merely, Kitty eyed them back with the same amount of caution. The chauffer stepped in front of the door, causing it to slide open. Kitty went in pursuit of his trail, her platform shoes clicking against the sleek floor. There was few lighting inside sleek building. Kitty shivered; the eerie atmosphere was almost too much for her to bear.

"_There_ you are," purred Snow from behind a tall counter. Snow slinked away from the counter, her cherry-red lips pressing together in a smile. Kitty stifled a cough as Snow's lavender perfume overwhelmed her senses. Snow's hand gripped onto hers, and they gave each other a stiff handshake. Snow turned to Kitty's chauffer. "Leave."

The chauffer bowed, pivoting towards the sliding doors once he had done so. Both Kitty and Snow watched as he walked, one foot in front of the other, until he exited the building and the doors slammed shut. There was a lengthy moment of silence between Kitty and Snow. Snow glanced at her own perfectly manicured fingertips, whereas Kitty's eyes fell to the darkness of the hall to her left.

"The tributes?" Kitty finally asked. She made sure to keep her voice calm.

"Already here," said Snow. "I had my men gag them. Decided that I don't want to hear their voices when we meet them."

Kitty's hand uncomfortably fidgeted behind her back. "How long did it take to build?"

Snow arched a brow. "All of it," she replied. "All seventy-five years." Kitty had nothing to say in response, but she didn't need to. Snow sighed in a tedious manner, her back now facing Kitty. "Well, let's go," Snow said. She began to walk in a strict and elegant stride. "No point in petty talk. I will show you your new living conditions. I had someone already transfer your things to your room. But first I'd like you to meet our _lovely_ contestants. "

Kitty trailed behind Snow, who was leading her down the left hallway. Most of the hall was swallowed in a dark, empty void, save for a few lights here and there. "We're cutting down on the electricity for now, in case you're wondering," said Snow. "I know it seems creepy, but I promise you that things will improve shortly."

"I'll take your word for it."

Snow chuckled. "Good."

At the end of the hall, there were eight elevators. Snow gestured over to the farthest one, conveniently marked "Eight." Snow hummed to herself as an eye-scan confirmed her identification. The elevator doors opened, revealing a modest chrome interior. Snow nodded towards Kitty. Kitty could only nod back as she followed Snow into the wide space that was provided.

"Nice, isn't it?" said Snow. Snow reached for one of the many buttons on the elevator's wall, pressing it with precision. The compartment began to descend, not a single bump ruining the smooth ride. "It's plain, but it has enough room to fit fourteen distressed tributes. And more." Snow laughed, spite dripping off the edge of her voice. Kitty's skin crawled. Snow didn't notice this, and if she did, she didn't seem to care. There was only contentedness smudged on Snow's face, only contentedness as the elevator came to a halt and as the doors glided outwards.

One two three four…yep. Snow was right. There they were: fourteen tributes cuffed and gagged in a small, empty hall as men held them from behind and as four marksmen pointed guns in their direction. Kitty felt herself move back, but forced herself to step forward in order to appear prim and proper. _At least there aren't twenty-four,_ she told herself. _Be thankful there aren't twenty-four._

"Don't try to fight it," said Snow. "The remote in my pocket has the power to shock each and every one of you. Each nontribute will be in possession of one of these lovely remotes." Kitty watched with forcibly blank eyes as Snow grinned, removing the remote from her pocket and giving each tribute a sample of the electricity. "First and foremost, welcome. You all are very lucky. My name is President Ella Snow, and this is the beautiful Katerina Brighton, better known as 'Kitty.' I am more than happy to inform you all that you have been selected. For what, exactly? Well, let me acquaint you with the details in the simplest way I can.

"Each of you was chosen randomly by one of our spies. They followed each of you secretly for a month and plotted the best individual way to kidnap you, which was determined on your individual personality. For some, we used a silly little message. For others, it was all about precision and timing. And others of you, we nabbed you by sheer luck."

Brief glances were exchanged amidst the youth. Snow gave them time to let the confusion, the pain, the sadness, to let it all just sink into their heads. Tears were falling off the faces of some while eyes were hardened in others. A few faces remained impassive, as if they were trying to process what had just been said. Suddenly, it clicked, and Snow knew it clicked because most of the expressions became to be of anger and regret.

"I'm sure you're all aware of something called the Hunger Games," Snow continued. "I'm sure you're familiar with the famous 'Mockingjay' and how she abolished the Games. Well I'm here to tell you that this competition you have been selected for is not the Hunger Games." Snow gave another one of her sinister grins, deliberately pausing for dramatic effect.

"It's the Hunger Tournament."

Fear flickered into many pairs of eyes, inside many hearts. Some of them, notably the youngest of the batch, trembled violently as sheer dread overtook their minds. Snow was thankful that she had ordered her men to gag the tributes; had they not, Snow was sure the room would have been filled with nothing but yelling and crying. She glanced upon them with intrigue, her eyes scanning their faces.

Snow continued, "You will compete in a series of events, called 'rounds.' By the end of each round, points are distributed based on the number of people and how they fared in the round. Afterwards, the points get added onto a scoreboard. The tribute with the highest number of total points_—_key word is _total—_at the end of each round will be eliminated. However, if you win the round while still having the highest number of points on the scoreboard, you are saved for that round. The runner up will instead be eliminated."

Kitty stood off to the side as Snow spoke. She felt awkward in her silky, cyan dress that puffed up due to the layers of petticoats beneath. She felt awkward just _standing,_ doing nothing as Snow did all the talking and as all the tributes laid their eyes on Snow. Occasionally, a tribute or two would glance in her direction, attracted to her vivid colors that held a stark contrast against the mundane walls. Kitty would glance back, and when she did, that's when she realized that perhaps her situation was no better than that of the kids'.

"There is also an added incentive for winning the round," Snow said, her tone shifting in an attempt to appeal to the bound and gagged. "Apart from being saved from death, the winner of the round will get what we call 'advantages.' The advantage is designed to benefit you in the next round. Each round also has rules. If you do not abide to the specific rules of the round, three points will be added to your score. If you kill a tribute without proper approval, five points will be added to your score. If we feel as if you're a threat to me or anyone else that is not a tribute, you will be electrocuted. More than once."

Snow paused. Her mouth was drawn into a straight line; her expression reflected apathy rather than cynicism. She crossed her arms, sighing noticeably while smacking her lips only once.

"You probably think it's strange how I make it so that there's not an all-out killing spree. But the truth is, I don't want one. You see, that was the problem with the Hunger Games. Freedom. There was room for far too much freedom. Freedom is what destroyed the Games. Even the _interviews_ had too much freedom. The Tournament isn't like that. We've limited your freedom; we've tightened the parameters so tight that there is no possible way you can show us up. I still allow you to maintain a slim amount of free choice, of hope. But it's so slim that you'll realize you have no chance to rebel. This is why the Tournament is superior, and why the Games are obsolete."

Snow gave the tributes a moment to let everything soak in. She tiptoed curiously around the each of the fourteen captives, a smirk stained upon her lips. "Congratulations," Snow finally said, her voice echoing throughout the hall. "You all are going to be the first to compete in the First Annual Hunger Tournament. I'll be your host, and the gorgeous Kitty Brighton is my co-host and announcer." Kitty felt an odd lump stick to her throat; Snow's words gripped her ears. "Kitty will not only be conducting the interviews for each of you fine tributes, but she will be the 'den mother' of where you'll be residing for the duration of the Tournament."

Snow spun around to face the back wall. She pressed a button that was near the elevator, but not too near. The button was directly below a small intercom. "Alright," she said. "I'm done. You can come down now."

For awhile, there was nothing but silence and marksmen and bloodshot eyes. Kitty drew a curt breath as she anticipated Snow's next words, but nothing came. She flinched as Snow's arm reached over her shoulder, brushing her away from the doors of the elevator. A few minutes passed before the doors finally slid open, seven adults sifting outwards and presenting themselves formally in front of the adolescent crowd.

The smirk that Snow was wearing did not waver as the last of the adults stood to face those condemned to die.

"Tributes, these are your mentors. As soon as I introduce you to them, I will escort you to the facility where you'll be staying. Over here, we have Demetrius Paxx." An older man with swooping, jet-black hair and a pale face nodded silently. He wore black lipstick and had a lanky stature. "He will be mentoring District 1 and District 2. Next to him, there's Evgenia Sohart."

A somewhat young-looking woman with a plump figure waved and smiled brightly. Her choppy purple hair slightly swiveled as her head bobbed. "She will mentor District 3 and District 4." Snow twinkled her fingers as she waved back at Evgenia. "Her brother is Diamanto Sohart." He had the same, round figure as Evgenia and the same hair, except his was red. "He'll be mentoring Districts 5 and 6. You're getting the pattern now, aren't you, my lovely tributes?"

On and on the list continued. The tributes gathered the essential bits of information that were tossed into Snow's lengthy speech.

"Chryssa Lum." The mentor for Districts 7 and 8 had wavy, silver hair with silver lipstick to match. She wore a menacing stare that accompanied her muscular build, making her the most intimidating out of all the mentors.

"Iason Bevry." Iason had dark hair, dark skin, and a firm build that contrasted with the unusual softness of his light brown eyes. He would be mentoring Districts 9 and 10.

"Melina Auz is the mentor for Districts 11 and 12." Melina seemed more fragile than the rest. Perhaps it was her slim, delicate figure. Or perhaps it was her silky blue hair that covered her round-face, making Melina appear so young she was almost childlike.

"And last but not least, we have Nero Lexington, the mentor of District 13." He was perhaps the most eccentric of them all, and the brightest. Nero sported neon yellow hair that fell behind his ears in a tangled mess. He had eyes so vividly green that it was obvious of their artificiality. And his lipstick…a brilliant orange that caused his entire appearance to seem more unnatural and odd.

Kitty glanced at the row of seven faces that stood adjacent from her position. She sighed, shifting her attention back to Snow, who was smiling. "Would you all like to see where you'll be living for next couple of weeks?" Snow asked. She gave a brisk nod towards the men behind the children. Snow began to walk around the men, going towards the lone door at the end of the small room.

The men forced the tributes onto their feet, the hands of the tributes remaining bound behind their backs, their sweaty faces apprehensive. As the tributes were shoved forward, the guns of the sharpshooters followed their movements. An eye-scan confirmed Snow's presence, unlocking the door. Snow was the first to enter; the tributes were next, filing through the door one by one, a man gripping each by the shoulders.

Kitty waited for the last of the tributes to enter and proceeded to stare blankly at the mentors for a few seconds. She knew many of them. Not all, but many. Demetrius worked as a part-time model, Chryssa was a renowned fitness trainer, and Nero was famous for his clothing designs. Kitty blinked in surprise as they turned their heads to stare back. She flushed lightly and decided to enter the living quarters. Kitty heard the mentors' footsteps tread behind her until the last had arrived inside the facility, the door sealing shut.

There was a rush of coolness that circulated throughout the air. The main area was large and impressive. It was a mere dining hall, with one long table, chairs, and couple of sofas for recreation. But it was grand. Kitty could feel her pupils dilate at the intensity of the lights; it was only mere minutes ago that she was in near-darkness. The furnishings were brand new: leather seats, crystal chandeliers, polished floors. She wondered how the Neo-Capitol managed to obtain these luxurious items. There was an upper-class in the Neo-Capitol, but it only made up a small percentage of the population, and even then, luxurious items were quite rare.

"Here is the dining hall," Snow said as she swayed across the floor. "This is where you can eat as much as you'd like. And chat…if you're the chatty type. If you look to your left and right, you'll see seven doors on each side. These lead to your rooms. I'm sure you'll love them. They're probably better than anything you've ever experienced in your sorry lives." Snow gave another smirk as she stopped by the fourth door to the right, with a golden plaque in the middle marked "District 11."

She waited for the tributes to catch up, looking up at the ceiling while humming. "Each room has another door, leading to a private room where your mentors will hold sessions with you." Snow's eyes scanned the tributes briefly, and then glanced at the men holding them. "My guards will escort you to your rooms. After ten minutes pass, you will be set free. No, not literally. But you will be able to move and speak as you wish. After fifteen minutes pass, you will have some prep time with your mentors."

Snow nodded towards the men, who nodded back. They began hauling the tributes to their individual chambers. Snow made her way towards Kitty and the seven adults, who were all standing idly against the wall. "There are eight doors at the end of the hall that can only be opened with your eye-scan. And mine, but that's irrelevant." Snow spun around and began to walk towards the eight doors. Kitty and the rest quietly followed her lead. Snow stopped at the first door, which had a plaque entitled "Katerina Brighton."

"Well…that's mine," said Kitty.

"Obviously," said Snow. Snow glanced over at the mentors. "I shall leave you here. Get comfortable. In about fifteen minutes, you'll receive a message from the intercom on your ceiling when it is time to prep your tributes. The door at the back of your room will lead you to a hallway. Take it all the way until you can enter a small room. That is where you and your tributes will discuss anything you'd like. As long as it's…appropriate."

Snow's eyed the mentors cautiously, her lips twitching slightly. "Remember what I told all of you. Don't spoil them. There is also a remote and a manual lying on each of your beds. It explains many things concerning the Tournament. Read it." Snow feigned a smile, and Kitty watched as not only her face stretched into a smile, but the others as well. She could tell that some were fake, like hers, but others were real. Some were merely subtle, out of genuine respect.

"Farewell," said Snow. "And may you all bring honor to the Tournament."

* * *

Jean would have beaten the man who had restrained him if not for the damned bracelet clinging firmly to his skin. He recalled the terrifying electric force packed into such a small device when it was first used in his kidnapping. And just five minutes ago when the man released his grip, he was cleverer than Jean gave him credit for. Electrocuting him before he even had the chance to fight back, giving himself just enough time to leave the room. Clever. Oh, how that man was _clever._

"Ten minutes until prep time," said the droning voice at the top of the ceiling.

Jean muttered loosely under his breath as he sat upright on the bed. It had a thick mattress, but the sheets were silkily soft. He stood up and clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as raging thoughts consumed his mind. Why did Snow bother to give everyone a luxurious room? Was it some sort of tease? Was it just to humor them, a statement that gave each captive false hope?

He begrudgingly moved around. There was no point in doing nothing. He figured it would be best to scope out the area, to get a feel for the creepy extravagance of the place. Jean sighed as he headed into the bathroom. The lights flickered on upon his entrance, revealing the marvelous shiny furnishings. He stared at himself through the large mirror and frowned at the small lopsidedness of his hair. Jean fiddled through the drawers. He found a comb and began to part his hair, continuing until it looked the way he wanted it to.

What about clothes? Jean left the bathroom, the lights turning off. He rummaged through the closet that was provided. He swore.

Nothing but ugly uniforms, filling the closet from left to right. Nothing but brand new, everyday uniforms with a finely stitched "District 1" on the fronts of the shirts and on the backs of the jackets. Jean stripped off one jacket from its hanger and tossed it to the floor. He took both handles of the closet door, abruptly slamming them shut.

"Five minutes until prep time."

And then he thought about Viktor. His younger brother. His _only_ brother. His brother whose fate was now left to the irresponsible, sorry-excuse-for-a-human-being that resided in his home. Tears began to well-up in his eyes as his fists clamped so tensely that they nearly pierced through his own skin.

"Vik…" he whispered through a much-fought tear. His heart ached and his eyes burned and his mind pulsed with all the information that was dumped upon him and the others. Jean swallowed.

It struck him that he might never see his brother again.

_No,_ Jean corrected himself. He _would_ see his brother again. He would make sure of it. He didn't care what challenges lied in the road ahead; he would stare-down those challenges and beat them more than they could beat him. He would become a Victor. _For Viktor._

"Two minutes until prep time. It is suggested that you now leave your rooms."

Whatever. He didn't want to follow the instructions set out by an automaton, but he assumed it would be in his best interest to go. From what Jean could recall about the Hunger Days, mentors were supposed to be helpful when it came to strategies. Jean didn't like help; help made him appear pathetic, it made him appear stupid. But he wasn't stupid. Jean knew that in something so twisted as a "Hunger Tournament," he would need all of the help he could get.

* * *

Cassia allowed the tears to flow. It was okay to cry, she reminded herself. It was okay because this situation was _not_ okay, and even the strongest of people would have to feel so undeniably weak. She didn't even bother to look around her room, no, Cassia just wanted to get it over with and let it all sink in later. She stood in the small prep room that was adorned with one chair and a sofa. Her right hand reached over to her left arm. Then she let both arms droop and situated herself on the sofa, her bottom remaining on the edge of the cushiony black seat.

"Ten minutes until prep time," the computerized voice echoed from the ceiling. It was so short and so mechanic that it gave her chills. She breathed, goose bumps forming across her exposed arms. The room was warm, but not even the warmest room could remove the anxiety that swarmed through and through her head. She wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and slid back onto the sofa.

It was hopeless. Cassia wanted to believe that it wasn't, but who the hell would she be kidding? It was _hopeless,_ and she was going to die. Sure, she had decent athletic abilities due to the rigorous material in PE, but she never took the class seriously. Cassia didn't frown, but she bit her lip. Karma was not kind to its subjects. How ironic that the one class she often skipped out on could have been the one to save her life.

_But perhaps it can,_ nagged a voice in her head. But Cassia ignored it. It was foolish to be overconfident in her abilities, abilities that were merely average. She was going to die. And she had a gut feeling that no one would be coming to save her.

"Five minutes until prep time."

She closed her eyes and thought about her family, about Julius. She thought about Livia, and how Livia's laugh was one of the only things that could make her smile. She thought about the book she gave Livia, _Always Faithful._ Cassia wondered if Livia was reading and enjoying it. And if perhaps there was a bookshelf somewhere in this opulent bunker, just to take her mind off of things.

"Two minutes until prep time. It is suggested that you now leave your rooms."

She opened her eyes, sighing heavily. Her eyes stung from excessive crying while her skin shivered. Cassia jolted slightly at the sound of one of the three doors creaking open. A honey blonde boy (and quite handsome at that) eventually stepped in. Cassia could feel herself tilting further back in her seat as he closed the door and walked towards where she was sitting.

He didn't say anything and neither did she. The boy simply sat down, almost lazily. He kept a hard stare at the blank white walls that starkly contrasted the furniture. Cassia thought it was awkward that she didn't even know this boy's name. If they were going to be sharing the same mentor (and that meant the same strategies), she should at least know his name.

But she didn't say anything. She would find out eventually. Or not. But if they were truly all doomed, would it even matter?

"Prep time begins now."

* * *

"I'm Demetrius Paxx," said the man with the jet-black hair and lanky stature. "And I will be your mentor for the duration of the Tournament." Demetrius sat calmly on the chair that was positioned across the tributes. He held a large booklet and placed it on his lap, glancing at the tributes with a soft stare. "I know you don't want to be here. I don't either. But just so you know, Jean and Cassia, I'm sorry this has happened to both of you."

Cassia's face remained emotionless, as she was skeptical. Jean, on the contrary, appeared as if he was ready to snap back.

"Look, you should just cut the intro, alright?" Jean said curtly, his brow furrowing. "I need help, not pity. If I'm in this, I don't wanna hear about 'this is just as hard for me as it is for you,' because I've been there."

Demetrius nodded and crossed his legs. He cleared his throat. "Alright then," he said. He looked over at Cassia. "Do you have anything to say before we begin, Cassia?"

Cassia shook her head, causing Demetrius to smile gently at her. "Very well. Let's begin." He flipped through the pages of his booklet, stopping at a precise page. "Let's discuss the Tournament itself. Do you both feel you know the rules and a general overview of how it will go?"

Cassia nodded carefully while Jean simply shrugged. "I got the gist of it," Jean said, "but I'm not too keen on the details." He sprawled his right arm over the arm of the sofa, appearing disinterested and overconfident. Cassia noticed this, but she figured he wasn't. After all, it was life or death. And it was only moments ago Jean stated that he needed Demetrius Paxx's help.

"If you want," Demetrius said, "I'll go over what President Snow should have told you."

"No thanks," said Jean, "I'll figure it out. Doesn't seem too hard."

"Very well then." Demetrius scanned the page, tapping a finger on the arm of the chair. "I should tell you that the setup isn't similar back when the Hunger Games were held. You won't have any training sessions or chariot rides or showing off your skills. There is no sponsor system. And at the end of each trial, you'll return back here. But there is one thing that remains: the interviews. They will be held tomorrow. These are key, you see, because they determine if…" He paused.

"What?" Jean asked.

"I can't really say," Demetrius said.

"Then why are we wasting time on it?"

Demetrius' cool green eyes glowered at Jean. "Listen," he said, "just be aware that the interviews can be important. You want to find an image that makes the audience want to know more about you. You want be appealing. Enticing. You want to leave an impression that the audience will never forget. There is no sponsor system, but that impression may come back to save you. I promise you that it won't hurt to be likeable in some way."

"I won't have any problem with that," Jean said nonchalantly. "Go on."

"Cassia?" Demetrius asked politely. "Do you need any tips in order to present yourself to the audience?"

"No," she replied.

"Very well. Let's move on to the next subject," Demetrius said, "which is conduct. Now I'm sure you already know the code of conduct during each round, which is to say, don't _kill_ anyone without 'proper approval.' But the same goes here. While you may form…ill relations with another tribute, killing them without proper approval outside of the Tournament will still get five points added to your score. If you are a threat to any nontribute, you will be electrocuted."

"We know, we know," said Jean. He gave a heavy sigh. "I want strategies. Give me strategies."

Demetrius rolled his eyes, frowning. "I'm trying to help," he said, "but as I see, you don't seem interested in my advice. Therefore, there's nothing I can do to help you. You want advice? Win. If you win the Tournament, you get to go home and act as if none of this even happened."

Cassia's arm slowly raised into the air, her face timid. Truth be told, she herself didn't think Demetrius' assistance was all that helpful, but she was grateful nonetheless that she was receiving help at all. But she didn't want a review of all the rules. She needed a plan to survive. She knew she wasn't going to last long, not from the quick looks of the other kids, but it didn't mean that she would deny any form of help.

Demetrius rubbed his temples and attempted to smile at her. It failed. "Yes, Cassia?" he asked.

"What's the best way to win?" she asked. "Strength, or speed, or wit?"

"Well. There is no 'best way.' But…I'd practice push-ups and sit-ups every day in order to keep in shape." Demetrius stood up, folding the booklet in his hands. He walked over to the door he used when he first entered. An eye-scan followed, and the door clicked to unlock. "To be honest, I have no idea what President Snow has planned."

* * *

"Prep time begins now."

Lynix stood alone in the small room that encompassed a long sofa and a chair. He was thinking, wondering. He was unsure if he'd even come back home, and if Jay was at Lake Indigo having a great time without him. He hoped for nothing more than for Jay to forgive him for his outburst. If Lynix had known what was in store for him, he would've toned down his choice of words. He also hoped for his family, and wished that they were safe.

A door shifted open, but it wasn't another kid. Instead, it was his mentor Evgenia Sohart, who happily sported and swished her short purple hair. Lynix squinted. Not only was her hair purple, but so were her eyes and nails and her prominent violet lips. He didn't know how to feel about this woman. Lynix's blood was already boiling at the thought of having to compete for his life, and Evgenia was starting to annoy him with her very presence.

"Oh dear," said Evgenia as she sighed into her hand. "Well I wonder where the other one could be? It's already time for our prepping, and she's not even here!" Evgenia tiptoed around the couch and bent over, looking underneath. Lynix lifted an eyebrow. Evgenia either didn't care or was merely idiotic. As Evgenia popped back up and gave a slight frown, Lynix concluded it must be the latter.

"Oh, how rude of me. _You_ must be Lynix Erebol," said Evgenia with a cheerful smile. She stuck out her hand and grabbed Lynix's, shaking his hand forcefully. "I'm Evgenia Sohart, but you can call me Ev or Nia or whatever suits you. Some people call me GeeGee!"

Lynix retracted his hand and placed it to his hand. "I'll just call you Evgenia," he said. "If that's fine with you." Evgenia gushed.

"Of course it is darling," she said in a happy squeal. "But first, have you seen Andrea? Oh…she's supposed to be here right now. We're losing such valuable prep time…" She scoped the area, a hand to her hip. "Which door did you come from?" asked Evgenia. Lynix pointed. "Well then, Andrea's room _must_ be that one, mustn't it?" Evgenia sashayed towards the door and pounded her fist against it repeatedly. "Andrea, come out. It's time for the prepping." There was no response.

Evgenia crossed her arms. "Well, let's see if we can open the door," she suggested. Evgenia placed her hand on the doorknob, twisting it to no avail. Lynix figured, as the eye-scan denied Evgenia entrance. Frustrated, Evgenia resumed her door banging. "Andrea, come out please. We have much to discuss if you want to win the Tournament!" She promptly waited for another ten seconds before throwing her arms down in exasperation. Evgenia faced Lynix, her once bubbly expression now a little sad.

Suddenly, the knob to Andrea's door turned, her face poking out and her eyes a dry red. Evgenia grinned wildly as Andrea fully entered the room, closing the door behind her. "So glad to have you here with the two of us!" Evgenia said, her voice squeaking. She bounced towards the solemn-faced Andrea, her arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. Andrea's face morphed into a deep scowl, and she squirmed, shoving Evgenia off.

Evgenia's eyes widened in shock. Her mouth hung ajar and her eye ticked. Now glaring at Andrea, Evgenia whipped out a remote from her pocket and pressed the number "4." Andrea cried out in agony as she dropped to her knees, her palms laying flat on the floor while her head was bowing down. Andrea gritted her teeth as the electric force surged through her veins, aching everywhere at once. Finally, it stopped. Andrea's muscles eased, and she let out a slow sigh of relief. Evgenia cleared her throat, huffing.

"Don't try to pull that little stunt again, you little brat," she sneered. Andrea's dark eyes crossed with Evgenia's glistening violet contacts. Lynix took a step back, not wanting to get involved with their stare-down. "You know, I'd be glad to walk out of this room right now and let you two fend for yourselves, but me and my brother are at war. We made a bet, you see. Whoever has the longest lasting tribute wins half of the other's salary. I don't want to lose that bet, and I know you two little darlings don't want to lose either. So both of you. Sit down and shut up."

So they did. And Evgenia talked. And talked. How this woman could _talk._ Much of the time she was ranting on and off about her personal life, which she somehow managed to connect to the Tournament. But most of it was of course, irrelevant. Lynix glanced at Andrea curiously as she stared at Evgenia, her face hard. Lynix retained a level composure; though he was enraged at the cards that had been dealt to him, he learned to move past it. For now. Evgenia concluded her half-informative speech along the lines of "Do good so that you can impress me and my brother!" It was sick. Lynix's face grimaced in disgust, but Evgenia didn't notice. Finally, her long and pointless ramblings were done. Evgenia waved and blew each of them fake kisses prior to exiting the room.

When the door closed, the room fell into an awkward silence. Neither Lynix nor Andrea moved from their position on the couch. For awhile, they just sat there, staring blankly at the white walls. Andrea finally mustered up the energy to reach over and nudge Lynix in the arm. He looked at her, nodding politely.

"So who are you?" she asked.

"Lynix Erebol."

Andrea gave Lynix a half-forced smile. "Nice to meet you," she said. "I'm Andrea."

She didn't want to be here; who would? After all, Andrea had spent the first fifteen minutes of her freedom huddled inside the floor of her shower, her face buried between her knees. She wished she had remained there, instead of abiding to the desires of the pretentious Evgenia Sohart. Andrea swallowed a staggered breath as her gaze fell onto Lynix. He didn't reply right away. Instead he glanced upward at the ceiling, where the small intercom was located.

"Alliance?" Lynix asked, almost as if he wasn't sure himself.

Andrea paused. "I don't know you," she said slowly, "so I can't say yes. Not yet."

Lynix frowned slightly, crossing his arms. "Alright then," he said, his voice gruff. "It's 'cause you can't trust me, isn't it? I don't look trustworthy?"

Andrea's eyes grew huge as she stood up with a look of indifference smeared all across her face. She hadn't expected him to lash out. Andrea's focus traced over Lynix warily. "Well, yeah," she said. "I've known you for twenty minutes, and I just now found out your name. And other than you and that air headed woman, I don't know anybody_._ How can I trust anyone? Or anything?" She bit her lip and forced away her tears. "I could die. And I'm not going to die with a knife in my back. Sorry." Andrea couldn't help the harshness of her words. _I'm not usually like this,_ she told herself. _I'm not._ But it wasn't her fault, really, nor was it entirely Lynix's.

"Whatever," Lynix grumbled, and now he began to stand up. He took once disapproving glimpse at Andrea before moving towards his door. He opened it and then slammed it shut, causing Andrea to jump at the forcefulness of his slam.

She swallowed and shook her head, unclear if the words that the two had exchanged were indeed said. Andrea headed inside her own room and headed back towards the bathroom, where the cold yet solacing floors of the shower awaited for her return.

* * *

Although the room he was surrounded in was black and white, the people around him reminded Israel of red. Niarh's auburn hair was alright, but it was Diamanto Sohart's ostentatious cherry-red hair and cherry-red nails that filled Israel's mind. Israel's mind suddenly flitted to President Snow's lips, which were just as bright as Diamanto's hair. Even though the red that entered his thoughts were bright, he couldn't help but think of dark red, blood red.

He didn't want his fate to be covered in red. He refused it.

Israel's eyebrows lowered, but not so much that his mentor would notice. So this was "purpose." To be a pawn of the Neo-Capitol's game. Please. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to let the Neo-Capitol have its way.

He patiently sat as Diamanto blathered on and on. It was amusing to observe him talk, as a matter-of-fact. Israel enjoyed hearing Diamanto's useless "pointers," (which were, in reality, a review of what President Snow had already told them). He thought Diamanto's appearance and overall presentation of his position as mentor was comical in itself. It was difficult for Israel to suppress a smirk.

"And remember, I want you two to do your absolute best!" Diamanto told them with an overzealous grin. "You wanna make your mentor happy, right? You wanna make him win his bet, right?" Oh, of course. What could be more fun than being waged on by a flamboyantly oafish man? Diamanto glanced at Israel. "Do you have anything to say about all this, Israel? Hmm? Or how about you, Niarh? Both of you haven't said a peep since we arrived."

Israel wasn't sure if this man was stupid or if he just didn't get the info about how his inability to speak. Hmm. It was likely a mixture of both.

Diamanto quirked an eyebrow upon standing up. "Hmph. Since neither of you aren't saying anything, I'll be off then. May the odds be ever in your favors." And he left the room.

Well, Israel had heard enough. It was probably around nighttime, so he figured he might as well catch up on some sleep. There was no use in sobbing over something out of his control. That's just what the Neo-Capitol would want out of him. To give up. To suffer. To play their little game. Israel could accept death, yes. But he could never accept defeat.

Niarh Orea seemed to be the opposite. She was huddled against the furthest end of the sofa, tucking her head between her knees. Her arms wrapped around herself in a firm embrace as she whispered faintly amidst her breath. Israel felt it would be the "nice thing" to offer her words of comfort. But it would serve no use. One, he could not speak; that much was a given. Two, he didn't think there would be any benefit in spoon-feeding false consolation to an utterly lost child. It would be the "nice thing" to write her a little note or kind message, but in the end, what would she have to gain?

And Israel didn't think it necessary to take his own time and effort to do something like that anyways.

He was surprised when he heard her voice. Israel stared at her movements with a careful eye.

"Help me?" Niarh asked him, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. Niarh lifted her head, her face hidden behind thin strands of messy hair. She noticed that Israel never talked once, not even when Diamanto addressed him. For a moment, Israel's eyes locked onto hers. Niarh didn't know this boy, but she felt as if he was the only one who could help. Normally people frightened her; Diamanto frightened her. But Israel vaguely reminded her of Dray, and Dray was the one Niarh needed more than anything.

Niarh held in her breath, waiting for Israel's reply. He shook his head at her, not solemnly, but almost solemnly.

Her chest sank into her stomach.

* * *

"It's time for the two of you to shut up," said Chryssa Lum, "because it's time for us to get down to business." Chryssa tossed the booklet she was holding in her hands onto the black chair that she leaned against. Her face was strict, serious, and her hazel eyes sharpened to a deadly precision. Chryssa's wavy silver hair was tucked behind in a long ponytail. As the tributes before her glanced at her with uncertainty, Chryssa crossed her arms.

"District 7, name?"

An abrupt silence followed.

"…Landon," he finally said.

Chryssa nodded. "District 8, name?"

"You can just call me 8," she replied, defiantly crossing her arms while simultaneously mimicking Chryssa. Chryssa rolled her eyes and pulled out a small remote from her back pocket. Upon clicking a tiny button, Chryssa watched as "8" clutched the edges of her seat as electricity jolted throughout her body. Her eyes widened and her teeth clenched, but she refused to let out a cry of pain. Chryssa lifted her chin as "8" struggled. Landon stared at her with feeble eyes and then nonchalantly reclined into his seat, as if nothing was going on.

"District 8," Chryssa said once again, "name?" Chryssa's finger remained planted on the button. She bore a triumphant smirk.

There was a look of quiet defeat on "8's" face. "Nel," she huffed, her voice strained. Chryssa's eyebrows quirked in slight amusement, and the corners of her mouth lifted into a grin. Nel's eyes shot at her glaringly, but she said nothing. _Kain you idiot,_ Nel thought to herself. _How could you bring this upon me?_ Nel didn't know what to do. Everything was forced upon her so quickly that she didn't know what game she should play, and how she should play it. First impressions meant far too much.

"That was impressive, how you defied me like that," Chryssa said admittedly. "It's gonna get you far in this competition, but not far enough, if you don't pay attention." Her lips smacked together as she uncrossed her arms. She shifted her weight to her right side. "Listen up kiddos, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. At least one of you is gonna die. But that doesn't matter, so long as one of you _lives._ My job is to make sure both of you live as long as you can. I'm gonna make sure that happens, because I'm in it to win it. I'm gonna do whatever it takes for you guys. If there's secret info, I'll give it to you. If there's a tribute to watch out for, I'll name it for you. But this'll be no cakewalk."

Chryssa towered over Landon and Nel as she took a step forward. Her presence was threatening due to her muscular physique and stern tone. "I'm sure both of you know the rules. Kill a tribute, you get points added. Disobey certain procedures, you get points added. The last thing you want is for points to be added to your score. Don't assume you can get away with a decent score. Don't assume that you'll be safe, because points add up, each one counts, and they _will_ come back. And when the time comes when you find yourself in last place, you'll regret not working hard enough."

Nel pretended to stare at the ceiling as Chryssa gave her speech. Chryssa noticed Nel's idle behavior and shocked her back to reality. "Stop lying there and start paying attention," snapped Chryssa. Nel feigned tiredness, causing Chryssa to narrow her eyes and shock her once more. Nel groaned and looked Chryssa in the eye, but she still sat with her shoulders slumping.

"Anyways," Chryssa began again, "I've got work to do on you two. You both look like sorry excuses for tributes, and I'm gonna whip you up into shape. I'm a fitness trainer back at home, and I want you both in top condition. It's against the rules for me to train you, but screw that. I want one of you to win. Bragging rights are my favorite kind of rights, so starting tomorrow after the interviews, I'm going to have you both spend two hours with me. We'll be going over strategies while working out."

Chryssa scrutinized the two with peculiar lips. "One more thing. You two. Allies. Any questions?"

Landon shook his head. Nel stared at Chryssa with blank eyes, not a single peep coming out of her mouth. "Great," said Chryssa, "I'll see both of you tomorrow, then."

As soon as Chryssa's presence was no more, there was a sense of relief that cleansed the room. Landon could feel his nerves ease up, and he let out a steady sigh. Nel sighed as well, although hers was heavier and more staggered. She ran a hand through her short, dark brown hair and rolled her head about her neck. She sat upright and glanced at Landon, who simply glanced back.

"So…" Landon began as he scratched the back of his head. "What now, sweetcakes?"

"We have two choices," Nel said, rolling her eyes. "We'll either die or we'll live. Not much of a choice now is there?" Her voice was neither sarcastic nor cold; however, there was a hauntingly blunt tone to her choice of words. It bordered on sadness, cutting through the atmosphere due to the truthfulness and severity of their situation. Landon chuckled, but there was something bitter about the way he laughed.

"Yeah," he said, "not much I guess." He skimmed over Nel's pale face, examining her somewhat hard features. It contrasted with the smallness of her stature, but it was in sync with her athletic build. Nel frowned at him, but just barely. She had caught his stare and refused to let anyone read her like an open book.

"We could be allies," Nel said, "if you'd prefer that. I don't care one way or the other, because ultimately, the alliance will break off. I guarantee it."

Landon pondered. He admired Nel's honesty, but her attitude was a throwback. He didn't want to have to handle someone who would give him difficulty. But in the long run, he could use someone like her. She would be a worthy ally, and she could get him far. Even with Nel, Landon didn't know how far an alliance could go in something as unpredictable as this Tournament. But it couldn't hurt.

"Cool," he said. "Let's be allies."

"Then it's settled." Landon winked at Nel in good-nature. "Don't give me that obnoxious wink." He laughed, and Nel yawned and outstretched her arms, rising from the couch. She rubbed her nose with her right forefinger and gave Landon somewhat of a lazy look.

"See you," Nel said. "I'm going to bed. I'm tired. I hate this place. I want to punch Kitty Brighton in her pretty little face. And Chryssa annoys the hell outta me and I just wanna _sleep. _There's something nice about letting your subconscious take over your current state of mind, isn't there?" Nel didn't wait for Landon to respond, because as she expected, he didn't know what to say. Landon's mind was still trying to process the sequence of words that Nel had strung together. Nel just gave him a thumbs up as she opened the door to her room.

"Oh," Nel began again, "don't expect me to be at Chryssa's 'training session.' There's no way I'm gonna endure two hours of utter hell with a demon that has taken the form of a human."

Landon nodded, a faint smile on his face.

Nel sighed as she slammed the door. Landon couldn't help but be amused at Nel's fierce display. He stood up and decided that it would also be in his best interest to get some sleep. And although his mind was swirling with mixed emotions—back to his family, back to Snow, back to Chryssa, back to Nel—Landon knew sleep would help organize his thoughts.

That is, if he could get any.

* * *

Kenny fidgeted his hands as a tall, dark-skinned man stood before him wearing a humble expression. He jumped at the sound of a door opening; a girl with straight, dark hair stepped in, her face a blank slate. Their mentor jerked his head over his shoulder to see her, greeting her with a sad smile. "So nice of you to join us, Luina," he said. "I'm Iason Bevry…and this is Kenny. We'll be going over some tips…you can, you can sit down, if you want."

Luina said nothing. She gazed emptily into Iason's light brown eyes, walking towards the black sofa with stiffened arms. Kenny cocked his head to the side as Luina plopped onto the sofa, sitting as far away from him as possible. Curious, Kenny scooted towards her, and he was pleasantly surprised when Luina didn't look upon him with contempt. Instead, Luina gave him a sideways glance before turning her attention back to Iason.

Iason exhaled and turned the front page of his booklet. His lips parted, but no sounds came out. He gave Kenny and Luina a quick look as he skimmed the page before him. "Is there anything you want me to go over?" Iason asked. "I don't…I'm not sure what I should go over with you, exactly."

_Then why are you even here?_ Luina thought as her eyes fixated on Iason's face. She resisted the temptation to glare at Kenny, who stared at her too much for her to ignore. _Ugh. What am I going to do? I'm trapped in a room with two useless people._ Her eyes widened and Luina swallowed a lump in her throat. _Take a look at your odds, Luina. Face it._ She wanted to everyone in the room to evaporate, just so that she could collect her thoughts.

_I might die._

In spite of this, Luina did not quiver. Her face loosened into a mellow state while she let her muscles ease into relaxation. Iason's facial features lifted, showing piqued interest. Luina continued to wear Iason down with her simple monotony, but his curiosity didn't falter.

"Luina…you look unusually calm," said Iason, his tone bordering on concern. Iason shook his head and took a seat on the chair flanking his left. "You both are confused and scared. You should be. I'm here to help. I have answers…not all of them, but I have some. All you need to do is ask. Don't be shy."

The last sentence boiled Luina's blood. She balled her hands into fists, slowly, discreetly.

"Is the food…is it…free?" asked Kenny. His voice was so low both Luina and Iason leaned in closer to hear. "And possibly…maybe uh, whiskey?" Luina couldn't help but stare. It was a matter of life and death, and all this dumb kid cared about was getting his grubby hands on a meal and hard liquor. She concluded he was poor. Luina herself was poor, but by the directness of Kenny's question, Luina knew this boy was _poor._

Iason seemed taken aback by the abnormality of the question. "Yes," Iason replied after taking a momentary pause. Kenny gave a slight grin, and Luina's incredulous eyes remained pasted to Kenny's face. "But…I'll have to check on the whiskey." In an instant Kenny's smile diminished, but there was still a faint hope shining in his dull eyes. Luina pushed further back into the sofa, and she suppressed a much needed sigh.

"What do we need in order to survive?" she finally asked.

"Huh," said Iason. "There are many factors that add to that. Though I would say you need two main things. You'll need physical and mental skill."

"Hmm," was all she could really say. (Yes. Because that was so helpful).

Luina nodded while simultaneously standing up. "I'm done here," she told him. "See you both tomorrow."

"Don't forget to wake up early for the interviews," Iason said. Luina nodded and then quickly slipped into her room. Kenny raised his hand meekly, his posture somewhat sliding off the edge of his seat. "Yes, Kenny?"

"I…I just wanted to…to say…thanks," Kenny mumbled. He scratched his knees. "You know…for, for helping us."

And then a smile lifted on Iason's face, but it was shaded with grieving undertones. Kenny smiled back at him, his face illuminating with optimism. Iason stood up and reached over, gripping Kenny's shoulder and giving it a firm pat.

"I'm…sorry," Iason said, his throat nearly cracking. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Melina Auz was situated close to Ivan, so close that she lifted her head in order to get a good glimpse of his face. Melina's light brown hands shook, and she fiddled with a loose strand of her silky blue hair. Ivan stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground. His expression was not of fury, not of fear or apprehension or even disgust. In fact, Ivan gave Melina an amiable smile that left her face in some sort of trance.

"Ivan…you don't have to stand," Melina said, her face in subtle awe. Ivan complied with Melina's wish (though it wasn't any sort of wish at all). He didn't give a second thought to the bug-eyed little girl that sat motionless in her seat. As Melina cleared her throat and picked up a booklet from the arm of her chair, Ivan couldn't help but take an interest to the amount of information Melina possessed in her hands. "Oh…I don't know where to even begin…"

Ivan's sturdy face examined Melina in haughty silence. "I don't want to be here…" he heard her murmur to herself in what seemed like self-pity. Ivan could feel his eyebrows tighten together.

"And of course we do," said Ivan. Melina shook at the sudden snap of Ivan's low voice.

"No…I…" Melina's voice trailed off into a series of inaudible mumbles. She bit her lip and sighed into her booklet as she used it to cover her face. "Okay. We all don't wanna be here. But there's nothing I can do about it. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Gee, I dunno," muttered Ivan as he resisted the gesture of rolling his eyes. "What seems like the most humane thing to do, Melina? What could you _possibly_ do to help?" Ivan watched as Melina fidgeted in her seat, a small look of displeasure etched into her face. It took Melina a couple of moments to respond, and when she did, her voice was too soft for his liking.

"You want me to free you."

Ivan feigned a yawn. "What gave it away."

By now, Melina's face was completely concealed behind her booklet, save for her gray eyes that gazed onto Ivan. "Ivan…please," she said through a trembling breath. "I can't…do anything. I can't…" Melina diverted her attention away from Ivan, not knowing what to say. She glanced helplessly at the girl next to him, who watched her with pale green eyes. "You are…Novette. Right?" The girl nodded, and she tucked a strand of her curly black hair behind her ear. "Novette…I hope you can understand sweetie that…this is all a big…that I don't have control of anything."

"Why is your hair blue?"

Melina's face began to expose itself from behind the booklet. A quizzical expression dawned on Melina's face, but she couldn't help but upturn her lips into a genuine smile. And that's when she realized she had forgotten what Novette had even said. "…Wh-What was that…again sweetie?"

"Your hair," said Novette. "It's blue and weird. But it's also really pretty." And then Novette tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, studying Melina's features. Novette gave Melina a huge grin, causing Ivan to turn his head and stare at Novette in disbelief.

"Th-thanks," said Melina. "You're really sweet, Nov—"

"This is really touching and all," Ivan interrupted, "but I'm not getting any younger."

Melina nodded at Ivan in solemn grace. "You're right," she said. She sighed a frustrated sigh. "There's much to cover…and there's so little time. Your interviews are tomorrow…and, well, you want to make sure you make the audience…like you. You know. The day after that is the beginning of Round 1…and who knows what will happen then…"

Melina began to fiddle with the same strand of her hair, looking anxiously into the faces of Ivan and Novette. "Strategies…you need strategies. Uh Ivan, you seem fairly strong. I'm sure you'll do fine, so long as you keep in shape. The Tournament will most likely deal with strength. And Novette, you can use your size to your advantage. There might be things to avoid, and your small size can come in handy. Any alliances might help." Melina's head rocked back and forth as she spoke. "Snow didn't really give us any information on what the Tournament was going to be like. So I don't see the point in me being here…other than being a—"

"Pep squad," Ivan grumbled. "Well aren't you a big help."

"It's not her fault," Novette told him. She looked at Ivan with innocent eyes. "She's doing the best she can. And I'm sure she will find out something later on. She can't not know forever."

"Yeah," Ivan sneered, "you keep telling yourself that." He stood up, his lanky stature creating an intimidating presence inside the room. Novette's eyes stuck to him, and Melina only bothered to glance at his feet. "I'm looking forward to our pointless future meetings. I'm sure they'll be grand." Silence followed as Ivan's heavy footsteps thumped against the sleek floor. A door squeaked open, and then it clamped shut. Melina glanced at Novette, and Novette hummed at the ceiling.

"What song are you humming?" asked Melina.

"Hmm? Oh nothing. I'm just humming a song."

* * *

Nero Lexington paced back and forth as he examined at his tributes with dispassionate scrutiny. He paused for a moment to bite his lip, his eyes darting to the girl and then to the boy. Nero sighed into nothingness as he ran a hand through his neon yellow hair. Then he shook his head in disapproval, his eyes hardening on his tributes' slim figures.

"Hmm," Nero said in a mumble. "You two don't stand a chance." He began to pace again, muttering something under his breath. Though neither of the two caught what was fully said, it was something along the lines of wanting another pair. Nero didn't say anything more and neither did the two tributes before him. Then he did something that caused an eerie chill to spread throughout the room. He laughed. It was a natural laugh, but it was a natural laugh that was too creepy to appear so.

"I'd go over the rules with you," said Nero half-heartedly, "but I don't want to waste my time. You all enjoy yourselves here. Do your best and have fun. While you can. My bets are on the District 1 and District 4. But you two…" Nero gave another chuckle. "Why even bother?" Nero felt their pair of eyes follow him as he glided towards the door in which he entered. He didn't make an effort to glance back at their bemused faces, and he delicately shut the door behind him.

"Hi," said the girl in an almost whisper. She smiled at the boy with sincerity. "I think I've seen you at school. Now that I think 'bout it, I'm pretty sure I've seen you at school. You're friends with Frederick Sloan, right? Yeah…I think you are. You're Charles. Yeah! You're pretty popular at school…aren't you?" Oh yes, she had seen him before. Rumor was that Charles had a thing for Maggie Winters. She squirmed. Maggie was her worst enemy.

"That's my name," he said, "but call me Charlie, 'cause everybody calls me Charlie. And who might you be, Miss?"

"Dinah," she said in slight hesitation. Dinah didn't know what her impression of Charlie was; normally she jumped at the opportunity at making a new friend. And although Charlie was the closest person who she could get to know, Dinah was curious if he was as mean as Maggie. But when Charlie gave Dinah a huge grin, she felt her skepticism flush along with her cheeks.

"Well Miss Dinah," said Charlie, "I think we gotta stick together. Our mentor doesn't have any faith in us, and I doubt the older kids are gonna want us around. So, whaddya say?" Charlie outstretched his hand. Dinah reached for it. "Friends?"

Dinah grinned at him. He wasn't like Maggie Winters at all. "Definitely."

Charlie grinned back, his teeth showing. "We're going to be great," he said. His eyes doted onto Dinah's face with care. Charlie knew that he couldn't stand a chance against the older kids. Not by a long shot. But with Dinah at his side, he just might pull it off. He could tell by the twinkle in her eye and by the brightness of her face that Dinah was hopelessly naïve. If he could convince her of his loyalty that quickly, he could convince her of anything.

He observed Dinah with watchful eyes as she suddenly brought her legs closer to her chest. Dinah tucked her thickets of black hair behind her ears and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm nervous," she said. "I wonder what's gonna happen. I mean, I'm positive I can get far. I survived in the woods for four days, and that was own my own! Sure…I didn't go out too far, but still."

Charlie cleared his throat. "Well I'm—"

"Oh and I'm good at running. Oh, and I'm good at climbing too! So I think we'll be good." Her grin softened into a simple smile. "Whatta 'bout you?"

"I'm pretty fast myself," Charlie said hastily, not wanting to be cut off again.

"Cool!"

"Hey Miss Dinah," Charlie began, "listen if you please." His tone switched, and Dinah unraveled herself in order to pay closer attention.

"Go on," she said.

"I've gotta strategy that just might help a couple of little kids like us go far." Charlie was surprised when Dinah did nothing but nod, urging him to continue. "I propose a plan. It's really simple. Here's what you gotta do. When we're in the round, you distract the competition and I'll go for the gold. Then when I win, you run to me and you'll automatically get second place. I don't know what kinda events we'll be doing, but I'm sure they'll be simple enough. Whaddya say?"

Dinah's eyebrows pressed together, her mouth twitching. Charlie scooted towards her and wrapped his hand over hers. Her face flushed a light pink, and Charlie gave her the most authentic phony smile he could. "Miss Dinah," he said, "trust me on this. You gotta. I know I don't seem like much, but I've seen a lotta the world. I've seen a lotta people. I've gotta gut feeling about this plan. You gotta trust me, Miss Dinah."

Her eyes lit up more than ever, and her heart panged with the loudest of thuds. The corners Dinah's mouth upturned with a natural, warmhearted glow.

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N** I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This was so much fun to write. I love this because there are finally interactions between the characters. I'm so excited for this story, you have no idea. The next chapter includes the interviews, and you'll finally get more detailed insight into each character's appearance. I sneaked some physical descriptions in this chapter, but the next one should be easier for you to reference their looks.

I've seen other authors do these question thingies, and I thought it'd be fun to do them too. **The story is not going to be affected **by how you answer these questions, but it's nice to hear your input.

**Remember to vote **for your favorite tributes on my profile!

_And may you all bring honor to the Tournament…_

* * *

**Feedback Questions:**

**1) Which mentor is your favorite?  
****2) Which mentor is your least favorite?  
****3) Who would you ally with?  
****4) Who would you watch out for?**


	5. The Capitol Highly Values Your Input

**A/N** Thanks again, everyone! Here are the interviews. Ages, facial features, and build will be recapped/revealed in this chapter. Once again, check out der kapitan's _Semper Fi_.

Oh my frickin' goodness. This is long. Well, you guys deserve it for your patience, right?

* * *

**The Process of Elimination**

"_The truth doesn't always set you free; people prefer to believe prettier, neatly wrapped lies," _-Jodi Picoult, _Keeping Faith_

Chapter 4:  
The Capitol Highly Values Your Input

* * *

"Food will be served in one hour," said the ceiling. Kitty Brighton emerged from her bed, gradually rising after few hours of sleep. She headed for the shower, which reminded her of the showers she had back home.

Kitty was pleasantly surprised when she opened the doors of her cabinet. There they were, just as Snow had said: Kitty's vivid dresses and accessories, all placed perfectly inside the expanse of her cabinet. She chose a dark red dress. Yes, dark definitely seemed to suit the situation. It had a cyan ribbon wrapped around the waist. (She couldn't not wear cyan). After slipping on cyan heels, Kitty tiptoed over to the special room that only existed in her living quarters.

The Host Archives.

It had everything Kitty would need to know and need to do in order to run the Tournament successfully. Inside there was a filing cabinet as well, with different labels and different colors for easy access. There was a TV that lit up on-screen instructions for her to follow. A schedule was posted, and Kitty nodded to herself as she read each bullet point. She opened the cabinet labeled "INTERVIEWS" and seized the envelope inside. Then Kitty shuffled back to her main room, sat on the bed, and scattered the contents of the envelope onto the silky sheets.

* * *

An array of dishes was positioned throughout the center of the long dining table. Delectable sausages, bowls of scrambled eggs, trays of bacon, buttery biscuits, jugs of orange juice and milk… the food here could feed twice the amount of people it was intended for. Mentors got the first pickings, as they were among the first to arrive at the mouth-watering buffet. Kenny Robinson was also there, searching through each portion in hopes of finding liquor. Iason and Melina sat across from each other at the far end of the table. They were away from the center of the chatter, and they liked it that way.

"Today's… " Melina paused. "Today's the last day. Before it begins." She took a sip from her glass of milk and sighed as she picked at her scrambled eggs.

"The gambling community will be raving by the end of it," said Iason with a sigh. "The interviews will generate much income, I'm sure of it." He shook his head and took a bite into a juicy sausage. He made an effort to swallow. "Makes me want to throw up."

Melina's mouth opened, and she heaved out nothing. Shivering, Melina pressed a hand to her mouth and bit her lip. "Me too."

"Kenny," Iason said suddenly, and his head cocked in the direction of the only present tribute. Kenny mumbled something, but it was inaudible. "What was that?" Melina and Iason both felt themselves gravitate towards Kenny as he spoke, hoping to catch what he had to say the next time he said it.

"Is there… is there any, uh, whiskey?" Kenny asked. A shy expression clouded his face when Melina gazed upon him in wonder. Iason smiled in an apologetic manner and shook his head. Kenny's brow twitched and his mouth quivered. (He began to feel slight withdrawal). However, he rubbed the back of his head and nodded in response. "Oh… well um, thanks I-Iason. Thanks uh, anyways."

One by one, tributes began to walk away from the solitude of their rooms into the open hall. The aroma of the delicious, fresh food entered their airways and filled their minds with hungry thought. Though many were hesitant at first, the youngest of the batch couldn't resist and began to fill a plate for themselves. Then another and another and another. (Though some mentors _insisted_ that the children wait until the _important people_ served themselves first).

Some ventured away from the heart of the feast. Luina made herself a plate of bacon and eggs and then quietly reentered her room. _No point in staying. I don't want to have to look at these people's bright and disgusting faces._ Cassia, on the other hand, merely chose to sit at the far edge of the table, at the opposite end from where Iason and Melina sat. _Should I talk? No. I don't know anybody. I know Jean. No. I know who he is, but I don't know _know_ him, you know? I better just keep quiet and eat my sausage._ So she did.

Niarh, lost and confused, crawled into a corner while gripping the edges of her plate. Boy was she hungry, but seeing all these "Capitol folk" frightened her. Niarh wanted to be away from their hair, their costumes, their facial expressions. As she munched on her biscuit, Niarh's eyes widened at the sight of Israel. She dropped the biscuit but quickly retrieved it from the floor. _I'll get him to notice me. He's the only one who could possibly notice me._

"Andreaaaaa," called Evgenia as she sat on one of the cushiony sofas. "Lynixxxxx. Both of you, come come. We have much to chit-chat as we dine! Oh, now don't act all sluggish with me. You don't want to get on my bad side, do you?" Evgenia's tone lowered at her last sentence. Andrea's eye caught Lynix's in mutual apathy, and they both began to pace themselves towards Evgenia. Evgenia's face brightened as she patted the seat, gesturing for Andrea to sit on her left and for Lynix to sit on her right.

"So glad you two could make it," she said, a forced smile screaming against her face. "Today, as I've said _so_ many times yesterday, is _the_ day! You want to make a lovely impression on all your dear supporters back at Capitol City. So let's talk _angles._ What angles could we use for you, Andrea?" Andrea's face was hard as she sipped on her orange juice. Evgenia rolled her eyes and snatched the glass from Andrea's hand. "_Please_ pay attention, dearie. We don't want you being a meanie for the Neo-Capitol, do you?"

"That could be my angle," Andrea said half-heartedly. She crossed her arms. "And I was looking at you, so can I have it back?" She reached for her orange juice, but Evgenia wagged a finger back and forth in front of Andrea's nose. Then she playfully poked at it.

"And what's the magic word dearie?"

Andrea frowned while touching the tip of her nose. "Never mind."

Evgenia whipped her head and turned towards Lynix. Placing a hand to her chin, Evgenia gave him a wide grin. "You could play the charmer. Oh Lynix, I bet you were just the charmer back in District 3, weren't you?" Lynix stared blankly into Evgenia's eyes. "Yes, yes. The look on your face agrees with me." She pinched his cheek and Lynix shifted back in his seat, appalled. He could feel Andrea staring at him, a bewildered expression on her face that most likely mirrored his own.

"Sure," Lynix said as Evgenia's hold on him persisted.

Evgenia finally released her grip, and she sighed. "Oh I don't doubt it." Her delightful façade soon dropped when her eyes met those of her brother. "Diamanto, have some manners! Don't you know it's rude to spy on another mentor just to get strategies? Oh, I always knew you were pathetic, dear brother. But I didn't think you'd stoop so _low._" Diamanto opened his mouth to speak, but Evgenia flicked Andrea's glass of orange juice in his direction. She watched it spill onto the floor, but even though she missed, Diamanto flinched. "Be gone!"

But when Diamanto took a step forward, Evgenia stood up. She waved her hand at Andrea and Lynix, sheer annoyance etched onto her synthetic face. "You two, shoo."

Lynix eyes locked with Andrea's, and he cocked his head in the direction of another sofa. Andrea's head tilted slightly as they both stood up, and she silently followed him across the room. As they both sat down, Lynix outstretched his hand. Andrea didn't do anything for a few seconds. She stared at his hand in awe. Then the corners of her mouth gently lifted, and her hand clasped over his.

"I didn't mean to be so mean," Lynix said. "I know I can be mean sometimes. But sorry. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have been so mean to you." He smiled. "And I didn't show it, but hey, I was scared too you know."

Andrea's face softened. She felt her muscles ease as Lynix spoke. Though sleep was little, every bit helped Andrea's mind grow clearer. This wasn't a time to be moping around. This wasn't a time to be picking fights that didn't make her circumstances any better. This wasn't a time to be shutting out someone who could actual provide help. Andrea didn't know what she should do in a situation like this, but she couldn't just wander aimlessly without any guidance. This was a competition, after all. Andrea needed some backup.

"Reconsidering the alliance?" Lynix asked softly, slowly.

Andrea smiled. "Yep. I was," she said. "And I have. So don't stress it, 'cause I have your back now. Just so long as you have mine."

Away from the noise, away from the others, Ivan pressed his frame against his door. His brow furrowed, deep in thought. Though his mind was scattered and confused the previous night, his visions became clear. It wasn't about having someone present freedom to him on a silver platter. It wasn't about wanting strategies in case that freedom didn't come. It was about being a little mouse in a little trap, being forced to bend at the mercy of the Neo-Capitol. But gather enough mice, then perhaps waiting for freedom wasn't necessary.

_If we rallied… _

_ If we refused… _

Surely his peers hadn't already accepted their fates. It was too soon. Too final.

Ivan removed himself from the door. He scanned the faces of those who would be forced to go through the Neo-Capitol's cruel game. _The Neo-Capitol is foolish to think we'd easily break to its every whim._ Ivan found an empty chair and stepped on it, knocking the trays of food that were in his way. He rose up and planted his feet firmly on the table, his shoulders square and his expression cold. He felt nearly every pair of eyes stick to him like glue, and he mentally smiled at the attention.

"Would someone please get him down from there?" Nero asked. He yawned.

"Can't you idiots see?" asked Ivan. His voice bellowed, creating somewhat of a hush throughout the hall. "Can't you see what they're making us do? But we don't have to do it! We don't have to follow their rules. We don't." Blank stares watched from afar; every now and then a pair of eyes would focus on a mentor's remote. Ivan searched hopelessly in the expanse of hollow faces. His brow furrowed, and he raised his voice. "Don't you guys understand? Do I have to spell it out for you? Are you all dumb and blind? Let's stand up. Let's refuse. Let's rebel—"

"This should shut you up," Evgenia said, her voice low and seething. She gave Ivan a smug look. Evgenia waited for his defeated face to come.

Twelve tributes watched as Ivan gritted his teeth, a trickle of sweat emitting from his forehead. The bracelet strapped to his wrist pulsed a wild blue as Ivan's neck suddenly jerked. They waited for it to stop, but it just continued. Novette, though small, glanced at Ivan who towered above. She saw his pain and his wholehearted attempt at persuasion, but she knew it was of no use. Tears began to gather in her eyes, her body trembling. Part of it was because of his pain. Watching him was saddening. Part of it was because she was terrified. She didn't want the same thing happen to her. Not again.

Nel rose from her seat. And as she glimpsed at each face, she wondered why the others weren't doing the same. "Yeah you guys!" she said. "Don't fall for their contemptuous methods. Rise from them and challenge author—"

Chryssa shoved Nel against the wall, her hand clamping Nel's mouth shut. Nel wriggled in Chryssa's grasp, but Chryssa was far too strong.

"Cute," Chryssa said into Nel's ear, laughing spitefully. "You can't beat us, kiddo. You lost the battle before it was even fought. Look around. We can hurt you with the press of a button. We can get marksmen in here, if we wanted. Do you honestly think you little kiddies stand even a remote chance? We just brought down the 'strongest' of you. What makes you think the other weaklings would provide any extra help?" Chryssa spat in Nel's face, laughing again.

As Nel's resistance began to fade, something inside her shifted.

Andrea swallowed, her breath still. _Katniss Everdeen would stand up. Katniss Everdeen would fight._ She glared at Evgenia and stood up, creeping up behind her. With a smirk fixated onto her face, Andrea yanked Evgenia's hair as hard she could, causing Evgenia to shriek and nearly topple over. However, Evgenia's hand remained planted on the button, and Andrea too received a shocking.

"Let us go," Andrea said, her voice hissing at the last word. But Evgenia ignored her, kicking Andrea as she fell to the floor. Lynix began to rush to Andrea's aid, but Evgenia lifted a finger.

"Now, now," Evgenia said, malice dripping from her words. "I don't want to have to electrocute you too, right charmer?" Lynix halted in his tracks as soon as Andrea's eyes met his. But they weren't pleading to him. They were hard eyes, prideful eyes, almost as if Andrea was telling him she didn't need his pity, not now. It was as if she was screaming at him through her hardened face, urging him not to help her, but to join her. But Lynix felt himself slink back. Though he wanted to _help_ her, he couldn't bring himself to fight a fight that couldn't be won.

Cassia's eyes widened as she watched the growing look of horror on their faces. Jean stared momentarily and then continued eating his food. Niarh ducked her head between her knees, absolutely refusing to look. Dinah was scared stiff; she felt herself freeze in place as the electrocutions triggered her kidnapping. Then there were tears. Heavy tears. Tears that stung her eyes. No longer was she stiffened, for Dinah was sure that she was shaking. Charlie came up from behind her, his face pale. He wrapped an arm around her, and Dinah buried her face in his shoulder.

"It's been over a minute," Melina said quietly, her hands quivering against the table. She turned to Iason. "It's been over a _minute._ Evgenia hasn't lifted her fingers!"

"Evgenia that's enough," said Iason as he rose from his seat.

Evgenia glared at Iason, a haughty expression sweeping over her face. "You can't tell me what to do," she said in a childlike manner. "You're not the boss of me. And the only reason you got this job is because President Snow felt sorry that you and your family are dirt poor. Dirty rotten dirt poor! That's the _only_ reason. _I_ got this job because of my natural leader skills. So bye bye." Evgenia waved her free hand at Iason. Ivan and Andrea were on their knees but they weren't passed out yet. The shock was meant to cause a great deal of pain without killing them.

But Iason had had enough. His hand lunged forward to snatch the remote, but Evgenia had quick reflexes and stepped back just in time. "Can't catch me," she cooed. Iason huffed, taking a larger step forward and seizing Evgenia's arm. Her eyes narrowed and she thrashed about as Iason ripped the remote from her control. Ivan and Andrea gasped, free. Ivan stumbled from off the table and sat down, his breaths staggered. Andrea collapsed onto the floor while Lynix approached her with sorry eyes.

"I'm fine," Andrea said, huffing. "I'm fine. I don't need help, okay."

"No, you do," said Lynix. "I've got your back, remember?"

Andrea gave him a faint smile.

"Get your hands _off_ me," Evgenia said in a cracked voice as Iason's grip remained. She clawed at Iason in a desperate attempt to get her remote.

"Enough." Evgenia and Iason both stopped to glance at Kitty Brighton. Kitty stood with a disapproving stare fixated onto both of their faces. _I must be convincing. I must be in order to please Snow._ "Iason, please give Evgenia back her remote. Please, just give her back her remote. And you Evgenia, stop turning breakfast into some… some sort of fiasco. Please. We don't need this. We're all professionals here." Kitty sighed with relief when the two of them both complied with her orders. She heard Evgenia mutter something about wanting to be the den mother herself, but Kitty shrugged it off.

"Anyways… it's time to get going," Kitty said. She took a card from the envelope and began to read it. "We will be leaving shortly. Finish eating and be prepared to speak in front of a live audience. These interviews are going to be televised here and in Panem, so remember tributes, your family and friends are going to be watching you. Soon it will be your time to shine and to reach out to the audience."

As if on cue, marksmen began to appear from the end of the hall. They flooded in one by one, their guns ready at any moment's notice.

"There are only thirteen present tributes," said one of them to Kitty.

"I wonder who's missing," Kitty said, almost in mumble.

"Luina," said Iason. He had searched the room for his other tribute, but she was nowhere to be found. "She's probably in her room. It's fine, I'll go get her."

As everyone waited for Luina to arrive, the marksmen began to circle around the scattered tributes. "Get in line," one of the said, the edge of their voice snarling. Slowly but surely, the kids began to file into a single line. Even Ivan and Andrea, who were both worn out from electrocution, got to their feet. Ivan stumbled a bit as he lined up behind Andrea, causing one of the marksmen to shove him forward. Ivan sneered, but said nothing. Once Luina emerged from her bedroom, one marksman grabbed her by arm and shoved her in line.

"Alright then… " said Kitty. She could only stand before everyone in an awkward position. Kitty flinched once the door leading out opened once more, revealing Snow standing with frightening composure. Kitty cleared her throat and strained herself to speak up. She gave a polite nod and smiled forcefully. "Hello, Snow."

"Follow me," Snow said to Kitty rather than having her voice stretch across the room. Kitty tiptoed behind Snow, knowing that the mentors and tributes and marksmen would follow suit. They bounded out the door and up into the elevator that could fit every single person inside, including the marksmen. However the conditions inside were cramped, as Kitty's shoulders were pressed against both Snow's and Melina's. The air grew hot, but it soon went away after they reached their destination and as the people began to file out.

Snow led them down a long hallway, a hallway that was alit by dim lights and surrounded by austere walls. Not much dialogue was exchanged, except for the loud whispers of Evgenia and Diamanto that echoed softly. As they walked further and further down the hall, screams and cheers began to reverberate throughout the walls. Soon, light began to flood inside as the noise blended into the ears of many. Kitty squinted as her eyes adjusted to the newfound light, and soon they were out in the open, in the heart of the arena.

Someone, perhaps a person who was working for Snow, handed both her and Snow a microphone. "Welcome everyone!" Snow said, her face bright and her smile wide. Snow waved to her audience in a wholehearted manner, a manner that seemed so enthusiastic that her smile seemed almost genuine. "Welcome welcome welcome. You know me as your fabulous president, and I know you all are aware of the gorgeous Katerina Brighton." The audience grew louder, and Kitty could feel the weight of the world drop onto her shoulders.

Snow covered the microphone with her hand. "Go on Kitty," she said. "Say hello."

"Hello."

Her voice resounded throughout the stadium, but it was so soft that it didn't even compare to Snow's earlier introduction. Snow eyed Kitty in confusion; Kitty was known to be an enthusiastic performer, and Kitty knew that _Snow_ knew. Kitty swallowed, nodding slowly. "Hello everyone! It's… it's great to see you all here today." And then Snow gave Kitty a thumbs up as they approached the platform in the center of the arena. Cameras were spread throughout the stadium, pinpointing every move.

"Welcome to the first day of the Hunger Tournament," Snow said as she addressed the audience. Snow began walking up steps that led to the top of the platform. Upon reaching the top, there was a sofa and chair. Kitty was to sit on the chair.

"As you may or may not know," Snow continued, "today we begin the interviews! Kitty Brighton here will be conducting each interview. There will be five questions asked and no time limit. I'm positive Kitty will do a top-notch job. I will leave you all to her presence. Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to introduce you to our first tribute, the sixteen year-old male tribute from District 1. Jean Luc Porter!"

* * *

Jean walked up the platform's steps with relative ease. As he approached the top, two marksmen stood by the sofa he was directed to sit in. One handed him a microphone. Jean grinned at the audience, knowing that he could manipulate them with his ever so charming looks. With his prominent jaw line, tanned body, muscular build, and short-cropped, honey blonde hair, who wouldn't fall for him? Jean even gave Kitty Brighton a flirtatious wink, but she only blinked at him in confusion. _She's just probably stunned. Stunned at my glorious body. _He waved once more at crowd and blew a couple of kisses.

"So Jean," Kitty said, clearing her throat. She turned to face him, and he in turn, partially faced her while keeping the audience in mind. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Just answer them to the best of your ability. There's no time limit, so take as much time as you need."

"I will." He smiled once more.

"All right then." Kitty took out a small card from her envelope and began reading. "Question one. How are you feeling right now?"

God was that a ridiculous question. Nevertheless Jean gave it thorough consideration; he did want to make an impression after all. He could feel the Capitol citizens lean forward, craving his words. "Fabulous," he said, smirking. Kitty waited and so did everyone else, and that's when Jean knew he had the audience where he wanted them. He said nothing more, and Kitty nodded at him politely.

"That's… great Jean, because I'm feeling quite fabulous myself!" The audience roared. "Question two. What was your home life like?"

"Fun. I mess around a lot back home. It's great."

Kitty felt herself nod again. She had an annoying hunch that she would be nodding quite a bit during these interviews. "It must be," she said as sincerely as she possibly could. It was hard though, pretending to be excited about contestants waiting to meet their doom. "Question three. Is there anything you miss about your home life… in particular?"

"My brother."

"Ah. I see."

Kitty adjusted in her seat and smiled at the cameras, aware of their presence. She watched herself on one of the large TVs, smiling back. The crowd smiled with her and she felt herself tense up. The interviewees weren't the only ones who had to make an impression, after all.

"How do you think you'll fare in this Tournament, Jean?" Kitty asked as her eyes moved towards the bullet point on her note care marked "4."

"I can win this thing," Jean said in a confident huff. "I'm not just a handsome face, after all. See these muscles?" He flexed. The audience clapped and whistled and swooned, and Jean gave another one of his trademark smirks. Then he eased himself on the sofa, leaning back with a nonchalant expression. "Yeah I know," he continued. "I work out, so I'm pretty much destined to win this thing."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did," Kitty said rather too loudly, and she gave a quiet squeak. "There's only one more question, Jean, and then you may go."

"Go on," Jean said, almost warmly.

"Have you any final words to the audience, here or back home?"

She expected him to wink or to grin. She expected him to make a clever quip. She expected him to charm the audience with shallow lies of adoration. What Katerina Brighton did not expect was the words that came out of his mouth, smooth and natural and genuine:

"Vik, know that I love you. Know that I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get back to you. Be safe. I'll be back in no time. Promise."

A hush fell over the crowd. For a few seconds, a quiet trance filled the arena. Then slowly, like a rising tide, a wave of claps and cheers mixed with "aw" emitted from the spectators. Kitty swallowed hard, resisting the urge to walk over there and give this boy a hug, even if his looks were a bit intimidating. He was still human, after all, and he still had a heart. _But Snow is human. Snow must have a heart. She must!_

"Thank you Jean," Kitty said, a genuine smile on her face. "It was a pleasure having you."

Before Jean handed the microphone back to marksmen, he winked at her.

"I know."

* * *

Snow's voice boomed throughout the stadium. "Let's have a round of applause for our seventeen year-old female tribute from District 2, Cassia Neuman!"

Cassia drew in a long breath as she passed by Jean while walking up the steps. Her cheeks gave off a light pink when he winked at her, but her expression remained a cold, blank slate. _He's just playing me for a fool. Don't fall for his good looks, Cassia. Don't fall for his "brother" card._ But as she began to reach the top, Cassia did a quick glance over her shoulder, looking back at the honey-blonde blur. She sighed. _Oh, but maybe he isn't so bad. Eek, don't trip; you almost tripped, idiot. Oh perhaps Jean isn't so bad. Not with that smile…_

Kitty was sitting on her chair, glancing over at the pale-skinned, slender-but-not-stick-thin Cassia. Kitty handed Cassia the microphone, to which Cassia replied with a modest thank-you. Cassia fidgeted in her seat, tempted to reach for one her longer strands of curly red hair. Her light gray eyes met Kitty's gentle face, and Cassia examined Kitty with careful scrutiny.

"How are you feeling right now, Cassia?" asked Kitty.

How is she feeling? How patronizing it was to Cassia and every other "tribute." But in spite of the bitterness she bottled up inside of her, Cassia could not overlook the fact that millions of people, both here and back home, were watching her at this moment. Staring. At _her._ She wanted nothing more than to disappear. She didn't want to make a mistake, in front of a live audience, in front of so many people.

Her hands then quivered, causing the microphone to drop into her lap. The spectators laughed at her clumsiness, and Cassia felt her ears redden as she lifted the microphone back towards her face. Kitty gave a reassuring smile. "No rush, dear. Take as much time as you need."

The bitterness was still there, still mixing. But Cassia couldn't help but feel soothed by Katerina Brighton's pleasant aura, the bitterness temporarily washing away. "Not good," she said in a murmur.

"Well… that's a shame. Um. What was your home life like, Cassia? I'm sure it must have been interesting."

"Not really." Her voice was sweet but low.

Kitty's smile turned into a soft frown; not of anger, but almost out of pity. "That's a… shame as well. Is there anything you miss about your home life, in particular?"

"Of course."

"Like what?" asked Kitty, attempting to dive deeper into the question. Part of it was for Snow, but the other part was for Cassia. Cassia deserved to have her story told before she was sentenced to her death. And Kitty wanted to know more of this quiet girl, for herself and to show Cassia that someone in the Capitol does care.

"Oh, a lot of things," said Cassia as plainly as ever.

"I see." Kitty sighed, and Cassia shifted her position on the couch. Cassia knew that she was boring the audience, but she couldn't help it. If she couldn't talk one-on-one with someone at school back home, how could she captivate an entire audience here? Kitty bit her lip, raising her voice as she continued to speak. "How do you think you will fare in this Tournament, Cassia? You seem like you could be quick and agile, right folks?"

The people in the crowd cheered, and Cassia felt herself sweating. "I don't know," she said. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, dear. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, right?"

"Right."

And then Kitty reached over and placed her hand over Cassia's, giving it a gentle pat. "One more thing, dear, and you may go. Is there anything you'd like to say to the audience? Here or back home?"

Cassia said nothing. There was so much _to_ say, so much she wanted to say but _couldn't. _Demetrius said that the interviews could affect her, and although Cassia didn't know the why or the how, she couldn't risk speaking her mind. And as much as she wanted to tell her parents to take care of Julius and to treat with utmost care, she couldn't. Cassia couldn't because she was afraid of the words, afraid of her emotions

"I love my family," Cassia finally said. Her eyes became wet and stingy, causing her to cover her face with her arm. Kitty grasped Cassia's hand. It was the only thing she could do since the right words couldn't formulate in her mind. And as much as Kitty wanted to offer words of comfort and hope, or perhaps even hug her, Kitty knew doing so would be belittling the situation. "Can I go now, Miss Brighton?"

"Of course you can," said Kitty. "Thank you Cassia. It was a pleasure listening to you."

Cassia didn't think she would, but she believed her.

* * *

"Let's give it up for the fifteen year-old Lynix Erebol! He is our fine male tribute from District 3."

Lynix's hands balled into fists as he trudged up the stairs, awaiting judgment. He ignored the girl with whom he crossed paths with; there was only one thing on his mind, and that was himself. He didn't know what to feel. At first he was scared, then sad and then confused and then angry. Now all of them have collided in a horrific array of emotion. He had to think of a front and had to think of it fast. Or he could be brutally honest with the disillusioned residents of the Neo-Capitol.

But then again, that could break his chances at winning. And losing meant death. _I can't die. I don't want to die._

Kitty handed him the microphone, and when he took it he stared at it for a while, as if in some sort of daze. Lynix's fingers squeezed the microphone as he sat down, still half-glaring at the device. Kitty coughed and promptly smiled afterwards in order to get back on track. "Welcome Lynix," she said, feeling stupid. "I'm sure you've been listening to the past interviews, but just to recap, I'm going to ask you a series of-"

"I know," Lynix said, his voice low.

"Oh, um. Well then let's get started, alright?" Kitty looked towards the audience, who encouraged her with hearty cheer. "How are you feeling right now, Lynix?"

Kitty awaited Lynix's answer, studying his features. He was reasonably tall, but not particularly muscular. Lynix kept his ashen-colored hair quite short, and she noticed that his hazel, almond-shaped eyes blended well with olive skin. Lynix's gaze locked onto hers, and he projected his voice clearly as he spoke.

"I'm okay," Lynix said with haste. Suddenly his voice shifted into a low, sarcastic growl, but Kitty wondered if only she was the one who could hear. "I've been treated just nice enough, haven't I?" Kitty's soft eyes did not linger away from Lynix's hard stare. She wanted to him to say what his heart desired, and at the same time, she didn't.

"What was your home life like, Lynix?"

"It's great," he said. More traces of anger began to surface. "I wish I never left, y'know." _Or kidnapped._

"Anything you miss about your home life in particular?" Kitty felt like broken drone, repeating the same phrases over and over again without any stop.

"Swimming." And then a wave of homesickness struck Lynix, and it struck him without remorse. He ached for the water, for the smell of his mother's cooking, for his family, for his friends, for home. He just wanted to be back in District 3, without having to worry about life and death. He yearned to be in an environment where he was allowed to open up and be free, not one that forced him to close up. Lynix sighed, reminiscence clouding the present moment.

"Perhaps that will give you an edge," Kitty said, almost quietly. "Which… which leads to how you will fare in the Tournament. How far do you think you'll get?"

"I'm pretty clever," Lynix said. He narrowed his eyes at Kitty but his voiced eased up. He sighed again, observing Kitty as closely as she was observing him. From her responses and her body language, he deduced that she was just as comfortable asking the questions as he was answering them. "I wanna ask you a question."

"You… can't," said Kitty, a half-apologetic look on her face. "Sorry. It's just that there are some limits within these interviews." Lynix said nothing. Instead his mind wandered back to home, back where he could be _himself._ And a part of him knew Kitty was quite herself either. "Um, getting back to the interview…" Kitty sat awkwardly as the audience grew still. In the midst of talking to Lynix, the false momentum she had built was dying. "One last question Lynix," Kitty said in an overbearing roar. "Are there any last words you wish to say to the audience or to home?"

His forehead crinkled. "I guess I just wish I was a better person to everyone I care about, y'know?"

* * *

"And sitting across from me," began Kitty, "we have the lovely Andrea Vanguard. She is our sixteen year-old female tribute who hails from District 4."

Kitty smiled at the tan-skinned Andrea, the latter of whom did not smile back. Andrea was at an average height, with slender curves and little muscle, (questioning how well she would do in the Tournament). Her face was heart-shaped; Andrea had rather full cheeks and an upturned nose. Not to mention that she was accompanied by large dark-brown eyes and short dirty-blonde curls that fell into beautiful ringlets. The most intriguing feature Kitty found about this girl was the three studs on each ear, glittering in the dome's bright light.

"How are you feeling?" asked Kitty in her usual pleasant tone.

"Oh I'm _awesome,_" said Andrea. "Nothing could be more fun than being forced to die. How would any of you feel if you were kidnapped and forced to in brutal competition?" Some flecks of spit flew as her words seethed into the microphone. Her eyes fixated into Kitty's with a burning desire to run free. Katniss Everdeen would do anything to defy the Capitol. And so would she. "Well?" Andrea asked, her voice rising. "Answer me!"

"Um…"

"You can't, can you?"

"What was your home life like, Andrea?" Kitty asked. Her voice softened as Andrea suddenly stood up.

"What does it matter to you? Or any of you?"

"It matters," said Kitty firmly. Granted it may not matter to the Capitol spectators, but Kitty was truly interested in each and every one of these kids. Their parents were probably tuning in right now, watching their children's performances on live TV.

"I find that hard to believe," Andrea said in a mutter. She sat back down on the sofa, crossing her arms.

"Why don't we move on to the next question?" Kitty asked as she adjusted her dress.

"Why don't we not?"

"Anything you miss about your home life?"

Andrea rolled her eyes and yawned, saying nothing. Why should she spill her heart out to these superficial freaks? And if she could show not just the Neo-Capitol, but the entire _world_ of her defiance, then perhaps another spark of rebellion would ignite. She may not have had her bow and arrow, but right now, as she was sitting across from the stunned expression of Kitty Brighton, Andrea truly felt like Katniss Everdeen.

Kitty could feel Snow's judging eyes glaring at her face that was surely broadcasted all over the region. She didn't want to force any answers out of Andrea, but if Kitty didn't act on her feet, she could only imagine the consequences. How she wished she had the confidence of Eridina Flickerman. _Why didn't Snow put Eridina as the co-host instead of me?_ Kitty feared her ulterior motives.

"Surely you must have something you miss," Kitty said, pressing forward. Her voice softened. "Or someone. Friends, family, perhaps even a pet. Tell us, Andrea. We want to know the real you."

"Yeah, but you don't care."

"I do," Kitty said. Her soft voice shook a bit, causing Andrea to lift a brow. And then the TV switched to Snow's face, who wore look of content on her face. Kitty couldn't fathom how or why it was so, but for whatever reason it caused Kitty to breathe a sigh of relief. When the camera reverted back to the interview, Kitty spoke in her usual calm tone. "Tell us, Andrea. Please?"

And then Andrea gave a bitter laugh. That's when Kitty knew that there was no hope of getting out Andrea's story.

"Any last words?" Kitty asked in defeat.

Andrea smirked. "I'm not in favor of the Capitol beating me, in any way." Chuckles overwhelmed the crowd. "And I'm a sore loser."

* * *

Kitty watched as the next tribute rose from the edge of the steps. She glanced at the small notecard that was previously laid out on her lap. "Please welcome Israel Delgado, our seventeen year-old male tribute from District 5!"

The first thing Kitty noticed about Israel was his stature. Although he was rather short and slim, he walked tall and with an air of confidence and sophistication. Despite this, his figure definitely did not fit the criteria of the stereotypical contender. His gray eyes popped out due to the lighting and his dark-brown crew-cut. Israel's lips didn't move as he sat adjacent to Kitty. He maintained an indifferent stare and a frigid posture, but there was attentiveness about his somewhat rough features.

Israel had many doubts as he stared down Katerina Brighton. He continued to watch her as she began asking the first question, "How are you feeling?" It was a stupid question, really, but Israel decided for the more polite answer. If he was going to win these people over and survive for himself, he would need to take that direction. Israel signed, "All right, ma'am," but the only reaction he got was Kitty staring at him with her mouth slightly ajar.

Israel mentally sighed. _Hmm. What a surprise._

"Um…" Kitty blinked. She whipped her head around and turned to one of the marksmen. "Wh-what… do any of you understand sign?" The marksman she was glancing at lowered his gun and shook his head. She shuffled through the notecards that were placed beside her, but she could not find a blank one. "I'm sorry, Israel," Kitty said with a sad smile. "Perhaps you would like me to ask one of these men to bring you some paper and pen? I'll go ask one of them…" She began to stand up, but Israel took hold of her wrist. The marksmen shifted their guns towards him, but he did not flinch.

Instead, Israel shook his head and raised his right hand. It took Kitty a few seconds to process what he was trying to communicate, but eventually she nodded in understanding. "Are you sure?" she asked. Israel nodded. "All right then. Then I suppose you could just respond with body expressions… that is what you plan on doing, isn't it?" She didn't wait for his reply before chuckling. "Of course it is… that's why you, well, stopped me. Anyways!" Kitty felt herself flush. "How was your home life like?"

It was none of her business, of course_. But I'll just shrug my shoulders and nod politely._

"So I take it was good, then, yes?" Israel nodded again. "That's good." (Of course Kitty knew it would be even better if the boy was back home and not here, but she was pleased with his respectful cooperation). "Anything you miss about your life back home?"

It didn't concern anyone. But it didn't matter anyways due to his inability to speak._ And my life doesn't need to be dragged into the shallow hearts of these Capitol people. _Israel nodded, his face an emotionless slate. _At least Katerina isn't egging me on._

"It's too bad you can't tell us some of the things you miss most about your life in District 5." Kitty sighed, but quickly recovered. "I'm sure the audience would _love_ to know all about you, don't you guys?" The stadium resurged with hearty cheer. Kitty grinned, thankful that she had the support of the spectators. They had her back without even trying. "You're quite mysterious because of this," continued Kitty. "I'd call it an advantage. People can't learn your secrets and turn them against you, correct?" Another nod. Kitty smiled and the audience ooh'd.

"How do you think you will fare, especially with this advantage?"

Israel shrugged. The odds could go in any direction; he wouldn't even try to deny that. Kitty opened her mouth and then chuckled lightly. "I'd ask you if you had any final words to say, but I suppose you can't… really, heh." Israel smiled and stuck out his hand. Kitty returned the smile and grasped his hand for a firm shake. Once they parted, Israel stood up and nodded towards Kitty. "It was an honor having you," said Kitty.

_It wasn't an honor being there. It was disgraceful, ridiculous._ Nevertheless, Israel did a quick wave before taking off. _I'm still trying to figure out whose side you're on, Miss Brighton._

* * *

Kitty blinked in surprise as the next tribute was already at the top of the steps, passing Israel and creating a swift transition. Her petite figure, auburn hair, and plump cheeks reminded Kitty of a doll she once had as a child. This girl took a seat on the sofa, just like the others had. Kitty leaned in to get a better picture of her face, which was sprinkled with freckles. With a cock of her head and a slight squint, Kitty could make out her light blue eyes, which were fixated onto the floor as the girl reached for the microphone left by Israel.

"Hello there," Kitty said, her voice mellow. "Would you like to introduce yourself? Or… do you want me, to?"

"Niarh Orea," said in the girl in an almost inaudible whisper.

"My reference card tells me you're thirteen years old and come from District 6," said Kitty. "Is this right?"

Niarh bobbed her head but didn't glance upon Kitty's face. She could feel her hands trembling and the audience glaring and the mocking laughter dripping from her peers as they watched her performance miles and miles away. _Everyone is expecting me to lose._ She swallowed in a heavy breath and tightened her brow. _Maybe I can prove them wrong._ In spite of this small burst of confidence, Niarh stiffened at the sound of Kitty's voice and the attentive crowd.

"How are you feeling, Niarh? Tell us. We'd love to know."

Not lifting her face from the floor, Niarh clutched the microphone closer to her face. Puffs of breaths escaped her lips that were projected throughout the stadium, but no one said anything. Niarh clenched her free hand and sighed, wishing she was back home, back with the only person in the world who actually cared about her. She could be naïve, but Niarh knew that people who eagerly anticipated her death didn't care about her one bit.

_I just want to go back._ Tears began to fall off of her cheeks and she dropped the microphone to the floor. Visions of home clouded her mind. She thought of Dray, and how he reminded her of the big brothers she saw on TV. Sure, the other people back in District 6 didn't care for her, but they certainly wouldn't wish _thi_s upon her. Niarh gasped as Kitty's hand slid over hers, and Niarh snatched it away, staring at Kitty with widened eyes.

"I didn't mean to startle you," said Kitty. Kitty pointed her own microphone at Niarh. "I just wanna know how you're feeling. OK?" Kitty's hand slowly reached outward; she wanted to wipe away the tears that were drying on Niarh's face. But Niarh scrambled away towards the farthest edge of the sofa. She curled up into a fetal position and remained motionless. _I'm alone. I have no one. I can't speak to this lady. She frightens me… everything frightens me._

"I…" Kitty's eyes shifted away from Niarh to the audience, her audience, as if they had any advice or words of encouragement. But the dead silence that filled the arena was somewhat chilling as Niarh continued to isolate herself from the rest of the world. Kitty couldn't blame her, really. It wasn't right to subject these kids to the glorified humiliation that would eventually ensue. One of the marksmen walked past her, prying Niarh away from the couch and slinging her over his shoulders. The girl began to scream and pound at his body, but he just dropped his gun and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Snow's orders," said the man to Kitty. Kitty just traced his movements down the stairs and on the television screen as Niarh attempted to resist being carried off, much to the astonishment of the audience and herself. After a minute of stunned silence, Kitty cleared her throat and reached for the next card on her lap.

"Next we um, have Landon Oaks. He's from District 7… oh and he's fifteen years old." Kitty stretched out a plastic smile and pulled back her hair. "Come on over, Landon!"

* * *

Landon sucked in a haughty breath as his footsteps neared the top of the steps. He put on a relaxed smile, rolling his shoulders just as his forest green eyes caught sight of Kitty Brighton's cyan hair. He waved to Kitty with a nonchalant hand and slid onto the sofa with delicate ease. Kitty handed him a microphone, and he thanked her. He took a quick glimpse at audience, nodding to them in a casual manner. _All right Landon, play it cool, play it cool. You gotta show to everyone that you're not afraid of 'em, that you're not afraid of the Capitol. You gotta show 'em that you can handle anything they throw atcha. Then let 'em do your work for you. And then when it's all over, you can go home._

"How are you feeling?" asked Kitty. She lifted a brow. "You seem rather calm."

"I am, I am," said Landon coolly. "A good breakfast always puts me in a good mood. Wouldn't you agree that we had some great food this morning?"

Kitty nodded. She took a brief pause. "So, Landon, what was your home life like?"

_Well it was all fine until this shit happened._ There was a twinge of homesickness, but he resisted the urge to let it show. After all, he didn't want to appear weak in front of a national crowd. "Ahh," Landon said, and he glanced up at the sky and pretended to reminisce about home. "Well, it was all right. It wasn't as if it was a haven or something, but it was home." As he delivered that last line, Landon could feel a minor slip within him.

"Is there anything you miss in District 7?"

Landon slightly bit his lip, but he swiftly regained his composure. _Well damn. Of course. Family. Friends. Just being home, being in District 7… being, well, safe._ "Uhh…" Landon flashed a cheeky smile. "Well, uh…there's this girl back home…" _What am I saying? I don't even…man, maybe I should just play off of that. _"And well, I'd like to get back to her." And then he realized that his words spoke truth. It wasn't that he had someone waiting on him in a romantic way; rather, it was Hazel who needed him the most.

"Maybe you will," Kitty said, reassuring him by clasping her hand over his. "Which raises the next question: how far do you think you'll get in this Tournament?"

Kitty didn't say it aloud, but she had her doubts with this boy. He easily towered over her, but his toned, light brown body was rather lean. He looked like a runner, not a fighter, and although no one really knew what the Tournament was going to be like, Kitty knew that strength had always been an important factor when determining life of death situations.

Landon merely shrugged at Kitty. _I'm goin' all the way. Whatever it takes, I'm not gonna stop until I come home. I'm goin' to win this. I have to._ "I guess you'll just have to be patient," he said, wearing a lazy smirk as a dark brown curl fell over his eye. "Won't know till we get there, right?"

"Of course," said Kitty. "I'm definitely not counting you out of the fight. And I know that everyone can't wait for what you have in store!" Kitty smiled to the crowd, waiting for it to die down before she continued speaking. "Any last words?" she asked innocently. As that line rolled off of her tongue, Kitty's eyes widened in realization. She didn't understand how ominous that final question sounded until now.

"Nah," said Landon slowly. He wanted to say something—to his mother, his sisters, to the world—but his mind couldn't register any thoughts. And even if it did, Landon wasn't sure if he had the heart to project his inner thoughts to an endless number of indifferent bystanders. He stood up and thanked Kitty before she had the chance to thank him. Then he sauntered off the stage, forcing himself to appear disinterested in the fact that he was one day away from battling for his life.

* * *

"Next we have—" Kitty gasped as a small yet athletically framed girl snatched the microphone from her hands. She had an average height that leaned towards the shorter size and pixie-like short, dark brown hair.

"Neliel Paisley aka Nel," said the girl with hardened, bright cerulean eyes. Her heart-shaped, pale face seemed icier with her blank expression, and she turned away from Kitty to address the crowd. "District 8. No, I'm not telling you how I'm feeling. No, I'm not telling you what my home life was like. No, I'm not telling you what I miss about my home life. No, I'm not telling you how I _know_ I will fare in the Tournament, and yes, I do have some final words for these despicable and horrendous-dressing people: I hope you all suffer a fate worse than Hell. That is all."

Nel shoved the microphone back into Kitty's lap and strutted down the stage, chin held high. And as she descended down the platform's staircase, the audience was howling with laughter.

* * *

Kitty stared wide-eyed at the microphone once held by Nel. She could still hear high-pitched laughter being emitted from the audience, though Kitty wasn't sure why. Were they laughing at Nel's comment regarding their fashion sense? Kitty bit her lip in moderate thought. _Or maybe it's because they know exactly what kind of show they're watching. Perhaps the audience is smarter and more aware than these children think._ But her thoughts were suddenly cut-off by the abrupt words of President Snow.

"Next is Kenny Robinson, a District 9 boy who is fifteen years old."

Kitty, still in a state of bewilderment, slowly transitioned her mind back to the reality that surrounded her. "Yes," she said, as her volume and tone gradually began to resurge. "Welcome, Kenny! Come on up here and introduce yourself. We're excited to have you here, aren't we?" The crowd responded as Kitty expected them too, though she felt offset as the last interview loomed over her head.

Kenny came into her sights with his hands folded closely against his body. Kitty noted his beach-blonde ponytail, stunted height, and the wire-framed glasses over his brown eyes. Kenny had a reddened and freckled face, accompanied by a noticeable gut which was reminiscent of Kitty's father. She offered him the microphone, but it took Kenny a couple of seconds to actually reach out and receive it. He smiled meekly at Kitty before shuffling over to the couch beside her. Kitty felt herself squirm intentionally as he sat down. _Just this and five more. And then it's over with._

"How are you feeling right now, Kenny?" Kitty asked, lacking confidence.

"G-great… a-actually, I…"

Kitty leaned in. "You're going to have to speak louder, I'm afraid I can't hear you. Just try, try speaking more clearly into the microphone."

Kenny cleared his throat, nodding. "Um uh, great. I uh, really… really like the food here."

If it wasn't for the microphone, Kenny would have been inaudible. But thankfully, he spoke just loud enough for Kitty to hear the gist of what he had to say. It didn't help that he slurred some of his words together, but it was better than nothing. "Yes," said Kitty, "the food is quite delicious… I assume you had a good breakfast?" Kenny grinned and nodded simultaneously. "Good, that's good. So what was your home life like?"

"I uh… love my parents," said Kenny slowly. "They um, they would always give me attention. And, uh, my pal Jesse… he, Jesse, he always made my life good. It was uh good, back home. It was good."

"Then I'm sure you miss them dearly."

Kenny gradually lifted his head. "Yeah," he said. "I do… I do." Perhaps it was Kitty's sweet voice or pleasant face, or even her elegant attire, but something about her made Kenny feel safe. "But… I'm fed here, so I uh, I guess that's not all too bad." Kitty raised a brow and stared at Kenny, perplexed. Kenny stared back at her, still smiling warmly, faintly, for he didn't know why she hadn't said anything in response. _But at least I'm getting attention._ Smiling faces were all around him, and Kenny sat amazed at the fact that everyone was intrigued with what he had to say. _I'm important to these people. They like me._

"How do you think you'll fare in the Tournament?"

Kenny simply shrugged. Kitty, however, was already calculating in her mind that Kenny would not make it far. Especially with his glasses, glasses that could easily be stolen or broken in two. But nevertheless, Kitty spread an optimistic smile, for it would do no good to crush his spirit. (As if she wanted to, but in the back of her mind, she still knew that thirteen of these kids were doomed).

"Well I think everyone is excited to find out!" Kitty said in a half-hearted attempt to rebuild momentum. But even the crowd was dying down; the volume was only half of what it used to be. In spite of this, there was enough enthusiasm to satisfy President Snow. "Are there any final words you have to say to our viewers, Kenny?"

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. On one hand, he knew that this "Tournament" was bad news and potentially dangerous. But on the other hand, he was content here. He had the most food he had ever eaten in his entire life, and he had a great mentor who promised to help him through this whole ordeal. Kenny couldn't really complain, not now. He just shrugged again, flashing Kitty an awkward smile and then standing up. Kenny mumbled a faint "thank you" before quietly making his way down the stairs. And as he walked down the platform, he gave Luina Malory a slight wave when he passed her by.

* * *

"Our next participant is Luina Malory, a seventeen year-old girl from District 10."

Kitty sighed as the crowd's enthusiasm was gradually dying down. Luina Malory was astonishingly short and thin, but there was something about her that suggested toughness. Across the bridge of her nose were light freckles. Her hair was dark and straight, barely reaching past her shoulders and almost covering her dark brown eyes completely. Luina's skin was fair, and her lips were chapped and thin. She took her seat without her lips parting once, without any emotion evident on her face.

However, her mind was another story. As Luina tried to make herself a comfortable position on the sofa, she stared at Kitty through drooping hair, through icy eyes. _Look at her. She must feel sorry for herself, having to interview all these kids. She shouldn't feel sorry for herself. We're the ones who are sentenced to die. She needs to cut the stupid polite and smiley act and just leave us alone. I don't need this._

"How are you feeling, Luina?" asked Kitty politely. As an awkward silence flowed between them, and Kitty couldn't help but feel excessively redundant.

Luina, however, was deep in thought. Choosing words were her specialty, or at least, that was what she liked to believe. She needed to be concise, _precise; _she needed to say enough so that she wasn't regarded as a quiet one, but not too much so that she would be regarded as outgoing. She needed to be average, overlooked, unimportant. After all, being underestimated and disregarded was the best route she had if she was going to survive.

"Adequate," said Luina after moments of contemplation.

"Oh… all right then," said Kitty with a soft smile. "What was your home life like?"

Luina restrained herself from biting her lip, and instead gave a mental sigh. _Why does it even matter? What do you have to gain? And why should you need you to know?_ "It was… adequate," Luina lied through her teeth, though she did manage to keep her voice calm and steady. "It wasn't much. But it sufficed."

"I see." Kitty swallowed a hollow breath. "Anything you miss about your home life in particular?"

"Yes," said Luina. She straightened out her posture, glancing out into the sea faces while maintaining composure. "But I don't need to go into detail."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't need to."

Kitty glanced at Luina, her eyebrows scrunched together. "Why don't you move your hair away from your face? The audience would love to see your face." Luina said nothing. "You don't want the audience to see your lovely face?"

"They… don't need to," said Luina quietly. _Stop it, Kitty. Stop what you're doing. I don't need to be exposed like this. You're just making a fool out of both of us._

"Well," Kitty said, unsure of herself, "okay then. Um, how do you think you will fare in the Tournament?"

"I don't know," Luina said, her tone now more evidently blunt.

Kitty wore a forced smile as she studied Luina's face. "I'm sure you will do just fine." She gave a half-sigh and sunk back in her seat. _Sure, _thought Kitty,_ but "fine" won't be enough when her life is on the line._ "Any final words, Luina? You've been so quiet with us. We'd love to hear more from you. So, any final thoughts, at all?"

"No."

Luina then curled her fingers and abruptly stood up. She slowly walked away, focusing only on the path ahead. Sweat gathered on the back of Kitty's neck, though she had to admit that she was unnervingly hot through the entire time. She could feel the bottom of her dress stick to her due to the increasing amounts of sweat. She could feel her smiling breaking. Nevertheless, she held up her chin and cleared her throat.

"Our next interviewee is Ivan Howl! He is also seventeen, but hails from District 11."

* * *

The minutes passed from when that last sentence had rolled off of Kitty's tongue. She glimpsed over at the giant clock behind the audience, biting her lip in apprehension. She didn't notice her foot tapping, nor did she notice her fingers clench the edges of her dress. That was, not until she snapped out of her four minute daze. When Kitty finally did realize that Ivan had yet to arrive on stage, she attempted to peer over the stairs, but she was so far up she couldn't make out the individuals down below.

"Ivan?" Kitty asked, hesitant. "Don't be shy… we'd love to have you. Right… folks?"

This time, there wasn't much response.

Then, Kitty shuddered as Snow's voice echoed throughout the stadium:

"I apologize for the inconvenience," said Snow. "Unfortunately, Ivan Howl has been difficult to contain through his adamant refusal to participate in these interviews. I am sorry to say due to his lack of cooperation that we must omit Ivan Howl from these interviews. I am pleased to present to you our next tribute: Novette Partridge, a fourteen year-old girl from none other than District 12."

* * *

She couldn't help herself. Novette couldn't do anything except stare into the dark gray eyes of Ivan Howl, gray eyes that were hardened like ice. He struggled within the arms of the security guards, resisting the urge to cry out in pain as his body dealt with numerous electrical shocks. He was strong, though, in spite of his tall and lanky stature. On his dark skin, Novette could make out intricate tattoos. A streak managed to slip out of Ivan's eye. Novette couldn't blame him. No matter how tough people could think they are, there would always be a way to beat them.

Novette could feel tears coming into her own eyes, but she rubbed them away. Then a couple of President Snow's goons snatched her by both arms and shoved her towards the elevated stage. "Move along," said the voice of a woman in uniform. Novette heard the shuffling sound of a gun. "Come on. You don't wanna end up like that poor sucker back there, do you?"

Novette halted in her tracks. It was a brief pause, but it was long enough for her think back to Ivan, to pity him. Before the two marksmen could push her forward, Novette glanced into the lady's eyes. "What a silly question," she said. "I'm sure _you_ wouldn't wanna end up like him too."

"Exactly."

"Then why did you ask it?"

The woman huffed, but said nothing else. She merely pushed Novette up the staircase that led to the stage, where Kitty Brighton was waiting for them. Kitty seemed to jolt at the sight of Novette and her two escorts. Novette waved to her absent-mindedly, and it took Kitty a few moments to smile gently and wave back. Novette giggled. _She seems really nice. Maybe she'll help us and this will all be over in no time._

Novette was nearly paper-thin, with wide green eyes that were soft and pale. Her curly black hair barely reached her shoulders, contrasting with her skin that was a near-porcelain white. Had Novette merely stood and stared emotionless, Kitty would have thought her to be quite cold as opposed to cute. But there was something odd about the sweetness Novette conveyed and the brightness in her smile. And as Kitty handed Novette the microphone, Novette did a little twirl that brought back some enthusiasm into the dying crowd.

"Why don't you take a seat, Novette?" asked Kitty. Kitty blinked, and then laughed in spite of herself as Novette plopped right down next to her. "You're supposed to sit on the other couch, dear…"

Novette tilted her head. "You don't want me right next to you?"

"No, I uh… that's not what I meant." Kitty sighed, and then gave Novette an exasperated smile. "You can sit right by me if you'd like."

"Okie dokie!" Novette sat further back, clasping her hands together. She grinned. "Take it away!"

Stunned at the sheer vivacity exuberated by such a young girl who would most likely die, a few seconds passed before Kitty could register Novette's actions in her head. Kitty knew that _Novette_ knew what was going to happen to her in the next couple of weeks. So why wasn't she afraid? Novette certainly wasn't cheery-faced and happy-go-lucky when Kitty had first seen her. In fact, Novette was one of the few who were quivering while tears had dripped onto that metal floor.

"How… are you feeling, Novette?"

"I don't know," she replied, "it's kinda weird here." Her honest response was enough to shake laughter from the audience, to which Novette could only stare, clueless. She quickly shrugged it off, however, and chuckled a bit as if to join them. Then she swerved her focus towards Kitty and swung her legs in anticipation.

"What was your home life like?"

"Well it was good," said Novette. She sighed "I wish I was home right now."

"Why of course," said Kitty softly. "B-but there's nothing we can do about that right now. Is there anything you miss about District 12?"

"Lots. I miss skipping to school and seeing my best friend Felicity. I miss my Mom and Dad and Fletcher; he's my older brother, and I miss Jack; he's my younger brother. Me and Jack would get into so much trouble. And I like how Fletcher knows _exactly_ where to tickle me, and how Felicity sneezes remind me of her cat. I miss how on rainy days the raindrops would trickle down my window and I'd try to predict which one would reach the bottom first. And I miss the birds, especially hummingbirds and mockingjays. Hummingbirds just flutter so fast and mockingjays sing pretty songs that I wish I could sing to. I didn't know that District 12 had mockingjays until yesterday, but I want to see more of them."

The arena stood still. Kitty could feel tears coming on, but she fought them with every fiber of her being. _This is what you're doing, Snow. You're going to get rid of people like this, people who look past the big world and appreciate the smallness of it all._ "How do you think—" Kitty said, choking on her words, "…you will fare in the... Tournament?"

Novette didn't respond. Kitty thought she was pondering, but as the clock continued to run, she gently nudged Novette with her elbow. Novette flinched, shaking her head and staring bug-eyed at Kitty. "Sorry!" said Novette in genuine apology. "I wasn't paying attention. I was just looking at the top of this dome. It's really sparkly. Anyways, what was the question?"

"Um, well, how far do you think you'll get in the Tournament?"

"Hmmmm." Novette shrugged. "That's the second silly question I've heard today. I'm not a psychic. At least, I don't think." The crowd was amused at that, and it started regain its volume after its period of silence.

"That is certainly true," said Kitty. _We'll just have to find out tomorrow._ "Anything you'd like to say to the audience here? Or back home?"

"Why?"

"Well, you don't have to, but—"

"No silly," said Novette, "that's what I'm asking _them._ I don't understand why they're doing this. It just doesn't make any sense to me."

_Me too, Novette. Me too._

* * *

"I'm afraid we're nearing the end of our interviews," said Kitty, sighing loosely. The faces in the crowd feigned sadness. Or perhaps it was real sadness, perhaps due to the fact they won't be watching as many tributes as there were back in the Hunger Days. But Kitty highly doubted it. Whether there would be fourteen or twenty-four, it wouldn't matter. Bloodshed was bloodshed, and people were just numbers, numbers that would become indistinguishable with each increase. "Next we have Charles Jorden, a thirteen year-old from District 13."

"Just call me Charlie," said a voice. Kitty jolted back in her seat. She slowly turned her head to meet the boy's crooked smile. Kitty smiled back, however faint. Charlie had an average height and average build, considering his age. His dark brown hair differed from his pale brown eyes, but they blended well with his tan complexion. Kitty was surprised how he managed to move up the stairs so quickly. Maybe he was just aware of his surroundings and timed when he was going to be called next.

She handed Charlie the microphone. He performed a sincere-looking bow, but there was something off-putting about his nonchalant demeanor. He took a seat cross-legged and leaned back. "After you," he said, grinning crookedly once more.

"How are you feeling?" She felt like a robot, not because of the repetition, but because of her lack of enthusiasm.

"Ah, I'm all right Miss Brighton. Not digging this outfit, but all right." The crowd chuckled. Charlie smiled _for them _rather than _at them._ He had observed each tribute and their individual handling of the interviews. By also glancing at the mentors and their reactions to the tributes' answers, Charlie suspected that there was a game within the larger game to come. If he could wow the crowd, he would. There had to be some motive in doing so, otherwise, why else would his peers not curse the living hell out of this godforsaken nation? (Well, there were exceptions).

_But whatever I gotta do to stay alive, I'll do it._

"What was your home life like?"

"Well, I'll tell you." Charlie licked his lips, thinking. "It was crazy, Miss Brighton, downright nutty. I loved it though and it loved me. Gotta great family, even though my sisters can drive me crazy. But it was great. Crazy is great; can't help but lovin' it. Don't need to ask me what I miss 'bout my home life. I miss the craziness. I'm just excited to get this whole thing over with and get back to that craziness that I love."

It was the honest truth. And although Charlie didn't like sharing private information with anyone other than his family, he felt he wasn't particularly sharing anything at all. He wanted to keep it vague, yet spin it off to where it seemed like he was making a personal connection. Charlie had a feeling that's what the audience wanted to hear. And boy, was he _excellent_ at spoon-feeding people for his own gain. The Capitol people seemed to enjoy his little tidbit of home, and that small tidbit was enough to catch their intrigue.

Kitty resisted the urge to mutter. _I'm sure this Tournament will provide plenty of craziness._ It was a sad thought, however true. "How far do you think you'll get in this Tournament? From your confidence, it seems like you're willing to go all the way!" Kitty wanted to puke at her delivery of that last line, but instead she simply made a mental sigh.

"You bet Miss Brighton. Like I said, I'm excited to get this all over with and get back to that craziness I love."

"Any final words?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I've said enough, and I'm sure my actions will say more than I ever could."

Charlie stood up. He took another bow, this time towards the audience. Then he waltzed over to Kitty, lifted her hand, and placed a gentle kiss on it. The spectators howled and whistled, causing Kitty to raise an eyebrow. Charlie wasn't particularly impressive in terms of verbal charisma, but he did have a certain flair about him. Sometimes, it's not what one says or does but _how_ one does it, and that was what most likely captured this audience's attention.

And as Charlie walked away, Kitty, for a fleeting moment, believed he had what it would take to win the Tournament.

* * *

"Last but not least, we have Dinah Heff, a twelve year-old girl from District 13!"

Dinah slowly trudged up the staircase, her skin crawling as all eyes fell on her. The weight of the world seemed to crash on her shoulders, and although she had the faintest bit of hope that someone would surely save the day, Dinah couldn't prevent herself from shuddering at the fact she was about to speak in front of a crowd that demanded her death. It certainly wasn't a pleasant notion, but Dinah still sucked in a breath of false confidence. _The people will come. They'll come to save us and this will all be over before I know it._

_Right?_

If she were back home and Kitty were interviewing her there, perhaps for some questions about her personality and plans for the future, Dinah would have been far more enthusiastic. Perhaps if this Tournament was about fighting for a cash prize rather than for her own life, Dinah would have been boasting cheerfully while dancing across the stage. But as much Dinah told herself it was okay, and as much as she imagined and wanted for it to be _okay,_ there was simply no way she could tell if she was _sure. _But she had to reassure herself, because she had Charlie and Charlie would help her through this until their saviors would arrive.

"Great to have you!" Kitty said, the pretense drilling through her like a blade. It was her last interview, and Kitty felt that she needed to revive this sleepy audience in order to please Snow, although it pained her to do so. She handed Dinah the microphone and hoped her smile would offer some encouragement. But little Dinah, with her light brown skin, big black eyes and dark brown hair, she merely sat down, offering a simple nod. "How are you feeling, Dinah?"

"I…" Dinah paused. She was bombarded with thoughts, negative thoughts. It's not as if she wanted those thoughts, but she couldn't fight it. "I don't want to die." Dinah the swallowed as put all of her force into fighting the lump swelling in her neck.

"What was your home life like?"

Dinah sighed, staring into one of the many cameras that focused on her face. She knew that everyone was watching these interviews, even her family back home. Well, perhaps not her _father_, but Dinah was certain her mom was sitting in front of their TV, crying her eyes out. She couldn't disappoint her. "I have a great mom back home. I also have Lucy and Wes. They're my best friends in the entire world." Dinah bit her lip. "That's it."

"Um, I would ask what you miss about your home life, but, I suppose it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

Dinah nodded.

"Very well then," said Kitty. "How do you think you will fare in the Tournament?"

Dinah's chest heaved. _I have Charlie to help me. But, I don't… know._ Soon tears began pour out of her eyes. Dinah's hands trembled in a subtle manner, trying not hint at her vulnerability. Of course, she failed miserably, but nevertheless, still gave Kitty as much of an answer as she could. "I'm just a twelve year-old girl. I just honestly don't know."

Kitty smiled sadly. "Well, maybe you'll surprise yourself."

_I doubt it._ It was a bitter realization, but Dinah still hoped there was some way she could doubt her doubt. When she didn't reply to Kitty's quiet comment, Kitty continued to speak. "Any last words you have to the audience, or perhaps to someone back home?"

"Mom… know that I love you. You too, Lucy and Wes." Dinah couldn't see anymore, for her vision was blurred by tears. "And to my Dad." Dinah's lip quivered. "I hope you. I hope you have a nice day at work." Dinah raised her arm, using it to wipe away the onslaught of tears. She handed Kitty the microphone, unable to speak. Kitty touched Dinah's shoulder with the gentle tips of her fingers. Dinah silently thanked Kitty, though she wasn't sure why she had done it.

After Dinah's presence was no longer on stage, Snow's voice boomed throughout the enclosed dome. Snow praised the efforts of Kitty and the audience, much to Kitty's amazement. And although each tribute was wondering what their loved ones were thinking as they were soon to fight for their lives, there was truly no need for them to thinking such thoughts. For in actuality, no one was watching back in Neo-Panem. There was no initial broadcast, no public announcement to the families of the tributes.

Snow didn't want that. Snow wanted this Tournament to be different. It was going to be private, for the Neo-Capitol's eyes only.

Kitty sighed. _At least they're over._

But really, Kitty knew that it hadn't even begun.

* * *

**A/N** Ugh I don't know how I feel about this. I hate the redundancy of the questions, but that was kind of the point. Snow didn't want the interviews to spiral into the hands of the interviewees, so she intentionally made them redundant so that way a strict order would be followed in order to maintain control.

Remember to vote on my profile!

* * *

**Feedback Questions:**

**1) Which interview was your favorite?**

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